I had forgotten
all that I am.
I had forgotten
all that makes me
because I saw
my reflection
in your mirror.
I had forgotten
that your story
is not my story.
These chapters
are untitled
these pages
are creased
and you seemed
so sure of me
that I let you fill
in the blanks.
You said I was
an easy read
and I believed you.
After you left
I sat out by the water
and imagined it was ink
oceans of it
at my disposal.
I imagined that my mind
was parchment
my heart was quill
and I let myself sink
into the stillness.
In that wild silence
truth struck me
I don’t know
why or how
I had forgotten
I am the writer
But I remember, now.
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