Together, we murdered her,
eighteen years ago.
We did it without warning,
without even noticing.
I am wearing her skin,
and I walk her around
as though her name is mine.
I am her ghost,
but I am the dead one;
I was the one left behind
not the body, but the mind.
We Murdered Her
So powerful. I like it!
Thanks much — hope you enjoy the rest of them.
Crike, that’s bleak. A bit autobiographical? Doesn’t matter one way or the other, like it either way.
Oh, Lewin. Am I as damaged as all that?
Eh, maybe.
Glad you like it. Nice to see you ’round these parts.
We’re all damaged one way or another, Jones, it what makes us great. It’s what makes us fly.