Ingot to Slag

I hate to say it,
but where is the girl
who grabbed me
by the shirt
and shook me around
so violently
it shredded?

The one who
used to
scream at me
for putting her clothes
on hangers wrong?

But maybe
more importantly,
the one who
made me search
for a wrapper
I threw on the ground
for half an hour
because she was
going to
save the world?

The one who
birthed opossum babies
from a dead mother
whose head
had been run over?

I understand
cooling down
as we get older.
I did it too.
But what happened
to the fire?

You were never meant
to be a shrug.

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