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I slashed him. The knife felt good and I was empowered by it.

He never resisted. He became the sacrifice for my emotional pain. Instead of screaming,
he fell to his knees and cried. I looked at him and smiled.

Behind him was a pond where his blood once rose to the surface, forming a large heart-
shaped design. The water inside the heart's perimeters held healing power. But today,
the pond was nothing more than an arid waste of wrinkled soil.

When I saw his bloodied face, my knife dropped, but I didn't offer comfort or even an
apology. Without emotion, I was as dry as the pond.

Then I woke up, touching his vacancy on my bed. His shoes next to my mine were
missing. His non-presence made me feel lonelier than ever.

slashed thoughts, missing shoes
love never heals on dry soil
heartache sleeps alone

           Patricia Carragon November 2011