with the former imaginary
love of my life,
i was sherlock holmes.
i was the fbi, the cia, the man
from uncle.
there was nothing i couldn't
uncover.
no clue left undiscovered.
no stone unturned.
my intuitive instincts
were in full force
with my gut leading the way.
she got away with nothing.
e mails, texts. hidden
things under the mattress.
the secrets in her closet,
her car, her drawers.
i knew about the lies,
the cheating, the betrayals
almost before they occurred.
i found love notes,
trees in the woods with
hearts carved in them.
i could read her face, her
body language, her mind.
it was fun in some sick
demented way of living.
but thankful to be done with
it. it was a horrible time.
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