She shed me like old snake skin,
like I didn’t fit with the image
of what she wanted them to see
when they looked at her,
like I was too snug,
confining her to a space
that she just couldn’t stretch far enough in.
The thing is,
now that she’s reinvented herself,
surrounded herself in things that are new and shiny,
she hasn’t shown any signs of growth.
She may have left me behind,
but she’s still slithering
on the same ground.
And when she checks herself
to see where the venom leaked in,
she’ll realize she only bit herself.