this is how I feel for my version of you: it feels to me
like the misuse of a pipe dream that became a white cane, going forwards deeply
into your pastlives searching for a very distant history that plays prominently
in your life this time around.
this is how I feel for my version of you: it feels to me
like you may feel like the soup ladle that became an arm extension to sip the
liquid of stock tears that you could not cry openly.
this is how I feel for my version of you: it feels to me
like you may find yourself as the unselfconscious face, to be in need as a
selfless greeter to a newborn Kleenex box eager in its growing pop up posture
of service.
this is how I feel for my version of you: it feels to me
like you may further find yourself to be as a reservoir dam that both permits
and withholds yet surveying the logjam of past premises pool face surfacing in
your holding tank mood.
this is how I feel for my version of you: it feels to me
like this and what am I to do knowing this and helpless to assist.
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