GONE

She was gone. She left many years ago, when she moved away, when she changed her name, when she decided to do it for something (or someone) unknown to us. She was gone. She left when she visited us and we realized she wasn't she, she wasn't her anymore. When she torn all the pictures, all memories. She was gone. She left when she decided to stay there, over there, were the beating, the pain, the isolation were like an everyday prayer. She was gone. She left three years ago when she hung up the phone begging for oblivion, our oblivion. We never forgot. We never left. We were never gone.

She was gone, she was gone for good.
Until now.

She sent letter and photos to remind us what we hate the most: she is gone.