esday, March 11, 2015

Doppelganger

When grief moved in some years ago,
I observed it, watching me, for quite
some time, and only saw it disappear
in sleep, when mind surrendered to

oblivion, or, at least, to a world where
pain did not seem so ever-present, but
as the years passed, it began to seem
that I had changed, as if grieving had

stripped my shape and flayed the skin
of Self, to make a second me, not
quite who I was, more of a copy
which looked the same, and yet was

not, but doppelganger, something
made in my image, that stood by
my side; shadowy twin living
its own life, sometimes merging

into my being, but still remaining
separate, although I could feel it as
both stranger and as friend, for it
was never all I knew myself to be,

and it seemed out of place and yet so
eerily familiar, as if it was some lost
entity, trying to find a place to rest,
where it could not then, be disturbed.

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About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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