Perhaps to you, it was me: Faceless, masturbating, ethereal, & part you. (Have you learned yet how to love a thing in which you can not see your own resemblance?)
"Ada," you'd promise, our talisman & our fate, whether dappled with sweat or flour or soot, or perhaps with the green water of your bath. Or was it mine? So much seems blurry now of your days- or were they mine? Sisters, we'd carried each other's everything on our backs.
We followed the moon & each other & felt for river rocks in the dark with bare feet and bare selves. But , in the end I really did just lose you over some dick. Or, the shed skin I finally let down.
"Love," you said, a man with a wife and a bad habit. "Love," you said, your laugh like a windchime, your claws like a scavenger. "Love," you said, but we don't eat together anymore and the squirrels are just squirrels.