Grown Half a year Early

I notice you now.
You are your own woman.
You’ve climbed your mountains
and I’ve carved your covering
—you were made to endure me.
You unmaze it,
the one who shrinks and floats and bends
and this skin, it begs, “release me.”
Soaked in filth that isn’t mine.
There is no draining with the current, and it’s you I’m going to miss.

PG

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