“Split”

I find myself

clinging

to the old me

the me that I’ve been

the me that I was a moment ago

picking up

old emotions with

farmiliar feels and faces.

I slip into

the established

me

like a well-worn pair of jeans

though

now

I’ve changed shape

and wearing them

wearing that old self

feels insincere.

Something that used to make me worry

no longer does

but the worry still

lingers

asking

if I want to put her on.

Sometimes

I put on the old me because

I don’t have the strength to bear the experience

alone.

Most of the time

I stab my spear into the Earth and

wait for the storm to

come and rinse

away

the old

and reveal

a new way.

“Split”

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