Dear A,

I sometimes jolt up in bed late at night after thinking I hear you call my name 
I often worry about what you think of me

I have your nose and nerves and, as I’m learning, your grit too
I have a synapse in my brain that goes off when I feel my breath hit my upper lip
I have yet to confront your voice when I hear it in my own

I have the feeling you’re my greatest test of strength
I cry every time we talk lately. Why is that? 

I think it could do with how high you hold the things I choose hide
I think it could do with my shame being your pride

I think it could do with the dry-mouth and nervous attention span we both share
I think it could do with your dry-mouth and nervous attention span when it’s focused on me

I think it could do with my own hopes to change
I think it could do with my own bitter wish to grow apart

I think it could do with my own fears of recession
I think it could do with my own fears of loss

I think it could do with everything I’ve ever ignored
I think it could do with everything I’ve failed to notice
I think it could do with everything I’ve failed to do
I think it could do with everything you’ve done for me that I’ve never done for you

I am not who I used to be
I am not entirely sure if you know who I am now
I fear you fear this as well

But, I know you know my underside like no one else
And, I know you see its mold

I know now what I have to do
I know now because of you 

To no longer fear our voice, I must be who I want to be, but for you.

Forever,
M