Outgrew

Imagine it. And imagine then that’s all you had; a slither of reality – no. Ideality. – existing only inbetween material connections, like sequencing the static, making messages of snowstorms, reading not between the lines but all the edges of your letters, drawn out to both confess and hide and seek and lie and whisper halve truths, whole truths, broken thoughts and details, alluding to a truer you that once you knew; at once, outgrew.