A read though all the good mornings, the good nights, and the nastiness of the last emails. Not ignoring the thin line between love and hate, one that is fine, hurtful nevertheless.

I read, I delete.

Memories of happiness, at times pain, sometimes affection hidden somewhere within. Delete, one by one. Read, delete. Not relive, not relapse. Delete.

If memories could be reset, days adjusted then erased. Minds changed.  One by one. Each message at its turn.  Mails, photos of smiles disappear. You hugging me close, making faces at goodbyes captured. Flashbacks of happy mornings, diners in silence, moments without fights or arguments. Delete. Move on to another.

Closure with a cold bath of nastiness, unexpected, maybe least expected. Memories flash, tears held back, pretending all’s fine. Moving on, moving on to other things. Life, love, worries for health, issues of displacement, dislocated hips and migration.

Done, deleted. Closure.

Hopeful.

“He’s good to me,” I tell, myself.