If you are to be
at all, you must be entirely
separate from me.

yours are the adventures, the
talents, the spheres of importance

and bold-cut destiny that I—
dwelling in modern insignificance and
this world's gauze-veiled

sense of purpose—can, literally,
only dream of; I will not mold
your consciousness too familiarly,

as if your existence were
merely an escape from mine. No,
you must be your own.

I'll make your shoulders about
as wide as my set, so I can learn
to craft the rest of you:

royal robes and heavier burdens
must lay across your neck,
such as I've not known,

but I'll slip more easily
into your skin, if our shoulders
are the same. Still,

I hope you'll be a mystery
to me,
a person complete in yourself,

a real girl for other girls to meet—
and after that, perhaps,
a friend.
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