Dear Kurt,
(I still don’t know why I start these entries with that, you’re never going to read them. I hope no one ever does.)
I wish it hadn’t ended up like this, but really, you didn’t leave me a choice in the end. You’d just killed far too many people. I was the only one who stood a chance, of course they’d send me. That I was your ex wife, I’m sure, never crossed their minds.
Even before X-Day, you and I were opposites, somehow drawn to each other and yet still pushing each other away. In the time following; with my body transformed into a solid, living block of ice, getting close to anyone became an impossibility; physically, emotionally, or otherwise. You’d left a hole in me, and X-Day made what remained cold and untouchable. Fitting, then, that my body was the only one capable of withstanding the hate and fire you became so comfortable dealing out.
The wreckage of the house we once shared; sundered and charred, stood a stunning reminder of how far we’d fallen. There you were; glowing white, the air around you rippling with heat, staring me down. If you had intended for this to be poetic, like many things, I’ll never know. What I did know, was this stanza would be the last.