The after

Now, I am an architect of shadows, rebuilding a life out of salvaged debris. To get past this is to walk with a limp through a world that looks exactly the same but feels entirely hollow. I am learning to breathe without checking for poison, to look at the horizon without expecting it to collapse. The "After" is a cold, honest country. It is the brutal work of forgiving myself for not seeing the knife you carried behind your back. I am stitching my heart closed with wire and grit, knowing that while you took my "Before," the "After" is the only thing you can never, ever touch.