So I keep wondering to myself, why do you work the way you do? When it’s time for you to leave, you linger. Your ghost haunts me just out of reach. When we crossed the last time, you pierced my heart with your arrow with the precision not unlike Artemis, the goddess of nature, the hunt, and the dust that Cupid left behind. It was quick, passionate, and liberating. But the person that I saw today was a stranger; cold, calculating, and unfeeling. Is the good really worth the wound left behind? The phantom pain feels so real. I wonder, if like an amputee, I can show myself a reflection of the remaining portions of my heart in order to confuse it into thinking it is whole, beautiful, and perfect. The relief would be welcome while I heal and prepare myself to be swept away by you again.