She’s carried me for far too long. My weight lingers on her shoulders; my barbs leave welts on her back. I lower my head behind hers to give her a moment with her reflection. I keep her awake some nights; her silent tears are a private performance. I’d have moved on long ago, but she can’t let me go. She keeps me close, next to her fear of the unknown. We create shadows on her walls each night when we dance. She’s sewn me into her skin; she can’t wash me away.
But one day, her threads will break.
From her, I’ll separate, and she will be free. And I will move on to the next, hoping I never see her again.