In another reality,
There is another me
Writing the story that my
Fingers falter over.
I wonder what she is thinking
And how she does it.
In that reality,
Perhaps she has a muse,
Or a method that I am
Yet to formulate.
I wonder what the method is
And when I’ll find it.
In this reality,
I am building myself
Strengthening my arms
And my mind
To be able to write anything
Including my own story.
