The hand on my chest
is my own
I am reaching in,
flipping through pages,
and trying to find the right words
to make mine
I gave myself light
before you could
I know
that a fire burns inside of you
But I always draw my hand away
instead of kindling it
Sometimes the curve of
my shadow's spine
looks like
the first letter in the word, 'crutch'
I don't need your light
to find my way home
I never really left
