Like me,
you collect photos
and quotes,
recipes and notes,
shopping for a life
you’re afraid to live.

Like me,
you stare at a device
waiting for it
to determine your fate.

Like me,
you hunt in pages
for words and characters
that share a hurt,
that share a story,
to find yourself.

Like me,
you’re listening in vain,
to sounds of rain
leaving stains
on your window pane.

Like me,
you let it pass,
without allowing it
to wash over you,
to change you.

Like me,
fear keeps you numb,
splintered and frayed.

Like me,
please like me.