I found this in an old notebook

And I don't remember writing it

You remind me of someone I love, but on the outside, loved. Your beard grows like his and I'm not sure if I can look again at your face. Your boots beat me like a path taken too often. Now I know I will miss you and want to take you like a kid wants to walk on forbidden grass.

In the end I was left with all I started: my bones and my breath. The facade that I had acquired more left me believing I had less. I am scared of what to lose even though I have not yet lost anything.

How can I look defeat in the face when its from the defeat I wish and ache to be saved.

How can I look loss in the face when its by the losing I believe I am chased.

How do I look life in the face if I have not accepted that from its slate I will be erased? Perhaps, I never made a mark.