You Are Here and Gone by Vanessa Vu

 

My sense of self drifts, untethered from you,

gnawing away at the knots I inherited,

destroying myself just to divide us.

As if I never, ever become you,

then maybe, I will finally exist.

And if I never turn into you,

maybe I will finally understand freedom.

But I see your face in every reflection.

Your voice threads through my genuine words,

as I try to escape the rhythm of your walk,

but your steps echo in my bones.

I’ve held a knife to my own throat,

attempting to unlearn your undying hatred,

to sever the beating pulse of your resentment,

to scrape off the indignation from my skin,

but we bleed the same shade of crimson.

I was always your shadow, your ideal blood,

trying to be the man you never were

as your shadows dive beneath my skin,

watching as your vessels keep me alive,

searching for the point where you stop

and where I am supposed to begin.

And yet, there is only bone marrow,

whispering, singing your artful lullaby.

I have calluses from your years of slaughter,

believing if I continued to pull, I’d be free.

But your blade, your melody only carves a circle,

echoing my inevitable return.

And my blade, my silence has deepened my scars.

And I swear you are not allowed to win, to fight,

to beat me like I am just your daughter

as I’ve unravelled the knots of your carnage,

separating my heart that was always half of yours.