I shred my own existence
And reconstitute it
Mashed prose
And just when I thought
I’d caught you
That twist in your smile
It’s me again
My eyes seeing
My ears hearing
What’s supposed to be
Your life

I’d ask you
If I thought you had
Any identity
Apart from me
What marks out
The lived
From the living
And I’d give you the pen
And say
“Do your worst
Write me, right me”
Let me shed my skin
Climb in to your words
Raw and bleeding
Poetically healing.

Copyright A J Phillips 2015