I keep wanting to see me -
keep wanting to meet me -
keep seeing glimpses, a hue, a sheen of that person,
still disconnected from the “who”
but I see the focus.
I see the hyper awareness of this “new”.
and I see the way you’re repelled
by this layer you’ve ordained as dirt
So I’ll scrub again,
to dissolve the glimpses of me -
for a few days at least
This constant pruning
leads to regrowth
and you wouldn’t prune suddenly visible roots
of an old tree
sooner rather than later.
I don’t want glimpses anymore