Are we?

March 2020

Are we even real?

You hold my hand when I slip on the hail

covering the stairway to hell,

the stairway taking me away.

You hold my hand and kiss my neck

and then I slip away.

I bent my back and did not break,

I broke my ways and grew tall.

Now I’m holding myself straight,

broken to pieces just to become more whole.

You know my body as I know yours

I know your mind as you know mine.

You will receive many

and I will be with one.

You predicted the future as I lived the past

and in between we were.

We are.

Are we even real?