This is not who I am.

It's everything,
It seems,
And yet it's not everything
It seems.
These cracks between intentions and reality--
Scars or tattoos,
I do not know,
There were too many hands in their making--
These cracks
Are the chains of existence.
And in these chains,
You are bound--
You, and you, and you--
Bound to my past
And futures.
I cannot release you,
I cannot recompense
For these chains.
They are not the bonds I desired.
And what of your chains,
Cast about me?
Surely I am not alone,
Am I?

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And when you say
Forgiveness,
I hear you,
And I know you believe in your mind.
I can see your heart, though.
It is easier
To say than be;
All these wedges are too far in.
You will go where you will.
Where will I?
I leave behind more
Than I once had.
I wake up,
And we are gone,
Leaving me to slay shadows.

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This is not home.
I do not know where home is,
Or if it is.
I am alone, separate, clueless,
Eager to find
Maybe you.
Experience is a swift teacher,
Silence, a servant
That at least will obey.
Bitter, eager, weathered, fresh,
And I can only do
With what I have.
Maybe it will be enough,
Eventually.

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You can see me
Because I can faintly see you,
And where I have acquiesced
Is where you are real.
If another forgets,
You will remember
Because I chose you to.
When I am gone,
What will happen?
You return, against prediction,
To you;
Maybe I will find you again
And be your memory.
At least we have that.

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And when everything is detached
From a context I never really understood in the first place,
I can see clearly where I think I am,
And where I was.
It took us too long to meet,
And our collision was a shadow of the dance
That never really was.
And when I say I wish I really knew you
So long ago,
I really mean it
Even though you may not realize
I need to.

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If and when we meet again,
Who will we be?
It is an eternity,
Condensed into a year--
A year for me,
A year for you.
There was always a better place for me
And you didn't bind yourself
Quite so firmly.
As long as the cycles of life tear us apart,
I'll be praying that yours
Can be a bit
Like mine.

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I see reality clenching its fist at you,
So familiar.
What you do not know
And what I do not know
Is our meager story.
There are others,
Far better.
But I have seen the legions arrayed against you
And I know them:
I fight them too.
If I really knew you,
Maybe we'd see.

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I will leave these dreams--
Daylight is the better part,
And I can be my own,
Even if alone.
I miss your company,
Never your chains
Wielded unaware.
I am sorry if you miss me too.
I pray we meet again
Someday.

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This reflection I see--
I can't erase it,
Try as I might.
Is this really who
I am?
Hideous.
I loathe
The grotesque features
And drooling mouth,
Dirt-streaked face and matted hair.
I want to squish
The vile thing,
Destroy its misery.
Me?
I look--
This is not what I see
Except at the mirror,
Where eyes penetrate.
This time, I beg
For your blindness.

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It seemed like a good idea at the time,
But like all good ideas,
It can only be counted on once.
This is not who I am.