Sunday, November 3, 2013

The last time I was here . . .

On this spot
(where I stand in my mind only)
I became someone new
I left behind who I was, who I had always been
I shed her like a dry, ripped skin.

Without regret, with just a vague itchy feeling between my shoulder blades.

On this spot
(with my bare feet mently planted where high satin heels last stood)
with the wind blowing gently
surrounded by family and friends
I looked into your eyes
and changed

my name
my identity
my path

On this spot.  Right here, I became who I am.

©2013 Liza Lee Miller
Writer's Digest November Poem-A-Day Challenge

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