the one who was me

     It was my move and I made it.
     I stepped on a toe.
     Then it was their move;
     they made it.
     Now I just don’t know.

     The images in my head are jumbled and blurred.
     I cannot see what could possibly unfold.
     A friendly smile? A handshake? A hug?
     Or maybe just a side eyed glance to lighten the load.

     What role do we play in each other’s game?
     Why does this matter any way?
     What is this push and pull…
     What is this song and dance…
     What is this detached camaraderie…
     From the one who was me?

copyright - afton hefley 2013 blah blah don’t steal my words yadda yadda