I would prize Wildwood Kin, from your little sweaty palms,
I would eat more healthily,
I would dance more often,
and refuse to let you talk over me.
I would shake my former self
look her straight into the eyes
and say, is this what you think you’ve been searching for
all your goddamn life?
I would remove those tinted glasses
and see you for what you are,
an emotionally-stunted man-child
who just happens to play guitar.
I’d take you off your pedestal,
where you’d comfortably made your nest.
I’d tell you truths like, I’m not sure I want to have biological children
and bathe in the disgust your face expressed.
I’d stop hiding my truth to please you,
unafraid of causing upset
confidently proclaim my moral views
and calmly watch you sweat.
I’d grab my former self,
lace up my running shoes,
take her by the hand
and run far away from you.