Splitting in Two

My goodbyes are like chicken fat

slow to move through

patiently simmered

and cold

I can finally feel the loss of them

My self, a self 

a survivor I grew accustomed to

yet I find comfort in the absence of

A numbing fear, a longing 

replaced by a murmur

growing, rumbling

humming, yawping

I burst forth from myself mid-song

bloody and poised

redeemed in peachy tones

I held my withered self behind the glass

and let their head rest upon my chest

I felt my own breath escape them

met my reflection

and felt no grief