Which one of us am I?

There’s a feeling that I harbour still,
a raging pain in a phantom limb.
I walked away against my will,
like a traitor,
on a whim.

I dare not see her, ever again;
I choose to blind myself instead.
The trite is unintentional,
disgustingly conventional.

I planted false memories,
a minefield if I walk to her.
Whether drunken or just lost
I would die, each step is wrong.

For she was me more than me
More myself than I’d ever been.
An accomplice to my dreaming.
The dream itself,
the waking.

I was a fried meteorite.
In her sky, a flash of light.
I walked away against my might,
I was right,
I always lie.

I surely know how he feels
as she gives the world to him.
All things glitter below her heels.
I’d left her gifts,
Foolishly.

And I admit my selfishness,
even as I pain and slur.
I don’t miss her as much as I
Miss myself when I’m with her.

 

Illustration by Troy Towns

©2018 Troy Towns All Rights Reserved

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