dead me, dead you


Oh, the back and forth
to endure
when everything I feel
feels obscure again
I write it out again.
There’s no solid plan
no instruction book
on how to look when you’re a woman
or a man
on a quest
on the road
to success


But then you collide with another
on the same road.
This can’t bode well,
can it?

You build the fire.
You fan it.
You watch the flames burn,
and burn,
and burn the old you away
to nothing…

…smothering the old you,
…killing the old you,
and blood leaks from the corner of your mouth,
traveling south,
and the old you is dead now –
sprawled in your bed now,
a husk of what you used to be.

And the same thing happened to me.


Some think its an awakening,
the beckoning of those parts of your brain
that hurt when you use them,
and the pain feels good…
…but I’m not sure if it should.

But I’ll take it.
The new me will take it.

I’m so raw, this new me —
there’s no way to fake it.
Raw and new and not fully formed, you see.

Don’t hold me.
Don’t touch me yet.

(too raw)

I’m not ready yet.
But I will be.


3 thoughts on “dead me, dead you

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