Eight.

I ran out of pictures of us.
I remember one time someone took a picture of us.
I was wearing jeans that made me look skinny.
We were content.

Somehow I lost that picture.
I have it in my mind, but I can never share it with anyone else.
Now that I have exhausted all photos of us, I really miss that image.

Eight years.
Hard to imagine. 
These days I'm more afraid than I am sad.
I don't really know how to feel.


A simple glance across a room and I could see love. I felt safe. I knew what you were thinking.
Glances like that are scarce.
I don't expect to ever find that sort of allure again.

After eight years, I think I can confidently say that we are going to be alright.
Life goes on.
Even though it's a scary ride, we are enduring this crazy little life.