Moira Miller ’27
The day you left,
It started snowing,
And it never stopped.
Nature has a funny way of restoring the balance of things.
I remember how your words felt at the beginning,
They fell softly, warmly around my shoulders,
Fluffy snowflakes clung to my hair,
As if they could protect me from the cold,
Somehow.
And for a while,
They did.
Your laughter wrapped itself around me like a blanket,
Holding me snug in your embrace,
Face flushed and smiling, we were warm,
Warm and happy.
But nature has a funny way of restoring the balance of things.
Your words became heavier,
Cold and sharp,
Like a fast wind throwing freezing rain onto exposed skin,
Your lies felt like daggers,
Your pleas bit down hard,
My head spun.
Your laughter mocked,
Pulling me tighter in a sick suffocation,
Pushing and pulling me every which way,
Until I couldn’t recognize the girl staring back at me from the mirror,
Dizzy.
And I try so hard,
For your sake,
Or maybe for mine,
To find the strength to remember the good times.
But at some point,
Along the way,
I began to hate the way you’d lie,
And your mocking laughter.