Dear Past,

I have finally gained enough courage to tear down the

revolving doors that transported you in and out of my building.

Sometimes, I think of how our parting words never really

meant goodbye. And I remember longing for the false promises

that held me tighter than you ever did. You held me like

the false promises that hung from your tongue, dripping wet lies.

Lies that fed other mouths and mine. Even

when it was just us, just you and me, the afterglow of other women

lingered on your skin. Old notebooks filled with old

poems I wrote while we were together reeked of my

rage and your deceit. I was naïve to think I

would have your daughter and name her Harmony. My

daughter still will be ‘Harmony’ but she’ll harmonize

to a different key.