By Kyle Adam

I learned the meaning of my own name,

whilst it was being confused with yours,

because it was confused with yours-

We were synonyms 

entwined by how we define. 

I find pieces of you 

in my teeth when I talk of times gone by, 

I comply to the cadence 

caught under my tongue, 

and I rue songs we had once sung.


Chewing this over hurts my jaw,

as much as I spit, it still tastes raw,

I cough and I cough to rid myself of your flaws

but it’s caught in my neck,

There’s a lump in my throat as I choke

on the first and final straw.


And to think,

we once stole from the same plate,

I contemplate 

the you I knew and the you I hate to say was fate. 

I won’t berate, I’ll spare the spite-

I miss you,

more than I’d like

But less than I’d miss my sense of wrong and right.