Memories of gleaming moments with him weave through my Denver reality. I’m like a raven standing on a pile of bones, picking a romance clean. Its an obsession, that haunts me. Does it feed me?  Or am I scavenging my memories for those gleaming moments to tell the truth of what is hunting me?

I’m waiting for a a big winter storm to sweep through and blanket Denver with white,

leaving behind a pristine landscape wiped clean of bones, no visitation by ravens.

Covered by silence.

Fresh tracks going in different directions.

by me!

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