She gave me myself back,
wrapped up in paper I picked out
years ago but was afraid to use.
She knew how to listen
and that we were playing a wicked game
of keeping score. She was patient.
She was kind.
She let me cuss and cry.
She was freedom and green trees
and fall breezes that echo back
what they are told.
She gave us
us.
She helped me fall in love
with him again.
She can’t be a friend
but I love her and hope
one day
she reads this.
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