Hadix5

i. to the woman who drowned herself in the bathtub: in the magazine I own that published your story, they blurred out the crime scene photographs, erasing your face and the full curves of your breasts. some part of me wonders if you would have wanted this, or if you would have liked for  the public to see you in your final moments, half-soaked in grey-looking water, your hair in strings, glued to the porcelain, eyes closed and mouth gaping, no breath stirring, no bubbles rising. ii. sometimes when I look into the depths of my bathroom sink, I hear your voice (or what I imagine it to be-- after all, we never met). you sit on the edge

It was painful, watching the crimson Sun hide behind the clouds and knowing I'll never see you again. Being seated on the meadow where we used to sit together, counting leaves around us and laughing at how unlucky the neighbor dog was, always barking at us, but not being able to get to us. And then the Sun hid, and it was dark outside - and inside, because you weren't with me, and the dog was quiet except for a few whimpers that matched mine. I knew his name, you know? Hugo. What kind of person names their dog that way, I have no idea. But Hugo knew I missed you. Still do. So now he sits with me, for he was able to chew his way out of that p