being the other

I'm used to this
I find comfort in never really being known by the people I care for

I am the escape
the breath of fresh air
the break

I am not the permanent
not the commitment
not the priority

I come without obligation
I come without responsibility
I come tied with a bow

but when I start feeling
(and I always do)
that's where it ends

suddenly I am guilt
I am a reminder of all that you use me to escape from
I am a weeping witch
suddenly you can't escape me

suddenly you need me to be distance
I need to be a memory
I need to be tucked away

I lose my shimmer and I rot before your eyes
I spoil in seconds
rapidly crumbling into sewage

I am the dirt on your shoe
I am the itch on the unreachable part of your back
I'm the buzzing gnat you swat away

I was never whole
you never caught a glimpse of me

I was my use
I was how I made you feel
I was everything you ran away from

I'm used to this

being the other