Between They and He

There’s a version of you

locked behind a door.

I didn’t know

there was a key.

And somehow

between silences,

steps in wet paint

there she was.

Standing.

Not moving.

White.

And I leaned,

and I pulled,

and I twisted,

and I spun.

Because this energy

was different.

Coming from this one.

There’s a me

that walks this world.

I call them he.

And he holds things,

and carries.

He doesn’…