Shedding (Her) Skin

We drove home, there were some occasional radio station changes and the rolling up of windows but we didn’t say a word to each other. I kept replaying the words “You’re being distant”, “You’re being distant”, “You’re being distant” in my head, dazed. It was never me you were yelling at, but now, I guess my shadow had gotten in the way of your path. Here you were, after silent dinners and the closing of doors, empty text messages, late nights at the office and you had noticed me. I was so surprised that you had taken me out to lunch that I had barely noticed that all you were doing was yelling at me.

I think it might of been the light that caught my hair, making it a shade darker than it normally is. The way my black shirt made my skin look paler than usual, the way my features were painted by your hands, the way my blue eyes grew darker than my sisters, the way my lips were round like hers, the ways hers were chapped and dry and so far away, the way I looked like your biggest regret, the way my mistakes were yours too, the way I messed up, I messed you up, I messed it up.

I think back to that day by the living room on the computer, hearing the front door slam, not thinking twice, she had run from her room out onto the sidewalk, I didn’t care anymore where she went, she was never here when she was with me.

I saw the ambulance pull up, my chest tightened, ‘Are you okay?!” I screamed into the winding staircase, into the empty staircase, into the empty house. I forgot she had left, It was my fault, the officer walked up to our front door, it was my fault, I was home alone, it was my fault, my dad’s on a business trip, its my fault, I don’t know, It’s my fault, she didn’t call me.

She called her friend.
A handful of feeling better, a capsule of I’m sorry and a dose of “I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

It was my fault. She called her friend, dad, it was my fault dad, she could have told me, dad, it was my fault, she couldn’t even talk to her own sister, dad, it was my fault,

Not yours.

So why do you see her face blended into mine every time we talk, every time a word jumps off of my lips that I regret, that causes pain against your skin, I didn’t mean to be rude, my hands are dry because I rub them so often, I’m trying to shed this skin you see as hers, this is my skin, this is not her, I am not her,

But it’s not my fault,

It’s not your fault.