You grew your hair long, grew out a beard so you wouldn't have to see yourself in the mirror. I can't even look at you without the horror of her broken heart written across your face. How terrible is that burden for you? And how persistent? Does it chase you? The burden that lowers your brows over yours eyes and tucks your head down. You broke the heart of an unknowing girl and lived, and stood, and walked! You walk on legs that should have fallen, knees that should've buckled. A frame grown heavier with the memory of her tears.