Poetry | Journal

And I read them as her words,
not mine.
Every time I see them I know.

But the feeling that follows swallows my heart and mind intertwined
in empathetic regret for the monster
I once was.

then I step back and remember
that this is that control,
this was let go.

Stepping through time with
Both eyes now wide
while she is blatantly blind
and I watch myself growing free.
I watch her fighting for me.

And while breaking my own decisions I’m choosing to forget the fiction in search of a clearer vision
through words.

I’ll search, until I can remember that my words were also hers.