I can see everything that I taught
you
in the past 365 days
radiating through your actions,
and I can’t shake the thought
that soon you might stop
typing in the same style that I do
and you’ll stop using all of
the same phrases that I loved to use.
You’ll eventually start picking up
bits of other people until
I won’t even be able to
recognize you anymore.
Sure, your freckles will still
center around your nose,
and your arm hair will continue to grow
slightly darker than the blonde on your head,
but “dearie” and “silly” might
cease to escape your lips regularly and
maybe the next time you
snap to say hello will be the last.
I wonder how long it will take until you are
a completely different person
in an identical body.
r.m.
