Claire Knox. Claire Judith Knox. My Sugarshack. Her name swirls around and around my head like the blonde havoc-wreaking cyclone that she is. Claire Knox. The woman I’ve not allowed myself to think about out loud until now. It’s been two years. Two years of nameless faces and brutal attempts at substitutions for my girl. What an idiot I’ve been, trying to replace her and find that feeling again—the spark that only she gave me. Not one of them held a candle to Claire. After two years of denying myself the pleasures of remembering her, Claire’s back again in the forefront of my mind, the old memories consuming me. Like some poet obsesssing over the muse who inspired the greatest love poems, I keep thinking of her, of us, and of all the fucking bullshit that caused her to flee. I should have gone after her. I should never have let her disappear like that, without a goodbye. But what could I do? At the time, I think, I was just too hurt, pissed and shocked to think about what the fuck to do to make it better.
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