it's been one week without you

I’ve thought about him each day since I left - whenever I thought of something to say, I wrote it in a note on my phone so I wouldn’t text it to him. Late one night, I cut up every old magazine and newspaper I could get my hands on, snipping carefully around anything that served as a reminder. Surrounded in my mess, I taped the pictures to my scribbled words. I’m not sure if he ever read those poems I sent him, but I really fucking hope he reads this one.

By Rebecca McLaren

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