traces

by the third night, the lava of her sadness had crystallized into rock hard anger. it formed a rugged but firm path leading to the inevitable conclusion that she’d been forsaken. while her mind had found relative stillness, the questions kept pouring from her soul. when had the seeds of doubt taken root in his heart? just last week they’d walked home hand in hand, stopping to marvel at nearly every puppy and bakery they’d passed. how was it possible for him to be gone when he was cast all over her space? his name scarred her texts, their shared TV shows lined up onscreen like an army from digital hell. forget the homemade apricot jam — his sperm was in her trash can, for god’s sake. the temptation to destroy it all was sore, but to do that she would have had to purge most of her life and she couldn’t help but feel like one had already been stolen from her. so amidst a sea of magma, much as it tore at her bare feet, all she could do was walk the jagged path laid by her earlier outpouring.