the me in you

green, blue
a dichromatic hue;
who are you?

your eyes, 
they remind me of a different tune.

have i grown that accustomed to?
or have i sought out the same weight
only shifting my shoulders,
shruging off similarities;
the indent on my back is the same

kinds of pain,
though limited in spread
are frectals never-ending
in this timeless thread

rolling down the slippery slope
to find the ends have met and joined
to bring full circle,
what i could not find,
but have always found.

you and I were made to be,
but i’m tired of destiny.

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