i’m not her.
she may be me,
but i am not her.

i couldn’t have been,
the one so desperately foolish,
yet brazenly confident,
in the act of ruining my foundation.

she did tear up the floorboards,
and she blazed the wood to ash,
silent before the flame.

and me,
left with soot in my palms,
have to yet again explain.

she is not me,
but i cannot escape being her.