FIVE YEARS AND A DAY: replicas

And her eyes speak a lot like mine at the end of the night, heavy-lidded with wine, conveying a yearning, a longing, a certain pine, for who you were the original time you stumbled

Across one another in snow, your hearts without each other rusted and hollow, to your emptiness, she was the sharp echo, at least at first

His matches my insatiable thirst for the perverse and the hopelessly cursed, my impatience for the innocent and unversed, my love for the scent of heavy cloudburst

She even has my unbalanced disposition, a woman possessed by her own intuition, using your flaws as emotional ammunition to bleed you dry

And, like you, he loves to watch me cry from a frigid cold distance, never explaining why he's drifting away and his actions belie what they once were

She chokes out a guttural purr, "She'll never be me and I'll never be her…" even when it seems that some types reoccur, nearly perfect clones

I became his to consume, lick the bones, he whispers to me in low, sinister tones, "I used to love you." the words sinking like stones, a reiteration

And she's manning your obliteration, not submissive at all, but with vociferation and, like I, she lacks desideration for any part of you

He tells me exactly what to do and couldn't care less about the black and blue tinting my skin, coated in a panicked dew of perspiration and pain

Five years and a day since we last had contact, our connection a charade, a joke, a play-act, we found one another in others when that love cracked, dehydrated and gone

Because each one after US is a nearly identical pawn, a void-filler, a bore, a yawn, we take them wishing affection would respawn, so tell me…

"Did we move on…?"