I've been wearing my hair the way I did before we were together. Every time it covers my eyes and I have to annoyingly push it away I think of you. The way I drowned in you.  The way you let me. I'm trying to remember who I was before you.  Before them. Before everything and everyone. The youngest picture I have of me is still a girl who was already broken. And my passport photo is a child with ghosts in her eyes. Hair slicked back. I don't remember who I was before that. Only the shame. Only the loneliness. Only the wanting to die.