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,
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.