When did I become an acquaintance, an object you pushed to the side, only used when necessary?
When was I not the first person you texted with news, not the first person you would say hi to in the morning, the first person on your mind?
When did you cut me off with rainbow bruises and lightning scars, and the thunder of your footsteps left me alone?
When did you create that perfect storm, that hurricane, that took me away, so now I don’t even know you anymore and I don’t even know what I would say to you now?