The Second Act

Who else am I becoming, if not myself?

I can’t wait to not see her in the mirror.

I can’t wait to not see her in the future.

I can’t wait to not see her in the visions, the crystal ball glazes from flames.

I can’t wait to not see her eyes behind my own, stealing chunks and handfuls of whatever light I have left.

I can’t wait to crawl back up with my own pomegranate seeds. My own spring blossoming with each step. I bring warmth back to earth as she lets me back in.

I can’t wait for the end of the season.