I’m the one you used
to love when
you thought
I was you. I’m not
sorry for our fresh
duality. Growth
cannot undo itself.
Our father’s heart
burns in both
our chests.
And yes,
our mother’s too.
No wonder we
were doomed to part.
Two chambers
in a family juggling
bad blood.
I’m obsessed with red,
you with blue.
Or maybe the reverse.
Truth is we’re not
right or left,
brother, moving blood
is just what we do.
Whether you love
me or not, push
or pull, beaten
and beating,
I’m still you.


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