I'm struck by how my life has shifted and changed. The girl who lived my old lives has gone and I feel she may not return. Left without a goodbye and I didn't get the chance to ask her where's she's going.

Now she's lost into the strands of time, and I'm looking through photos and wondering when the the last time she showed her face was.
Was it in the last long summer at home? With the rubbing off of the nightclub stamp? Packed away with post holiday clothes? Did I lose her in the bag of clothes for charity, or maybe the heels I threw out because they gave me blisters? Perhaps she disappeared when I dumped a bucket of leaves in the bin on a Saturday morning? Did she scatter when my alarm blared at seven am, or was it when I blinked out sleep and woke before eleven on a weekend? I wonder if I accidentally deleted her with those other forgtotten aquaintences off social media, or did she get forgotten in the texts never returned? Surely she didn't feel cast away when I declined plans to spend a weekend resting at home?

It's hard to say whether she is necessarily mourned, but I wish I'd had a chance to give her a real send off. To wave her out and sing songs of her teachings before she was replaced. I wish she'd let me reminisce first, so I knew that she was my past. I only know she's even gone when I see her smiling back through the glossy sheen of the captured moment. Where she throws back her head, her laughs are large and her friends are close.
Lost girl I'm sorry. I didn't appreciate you for who you were.