Who is the you that I once knew, and is she
within me the way that I think so still?
Or is she a thing I've remade in my mind,
by now, each cell, replacing itself
seven years it's been. You're probably
some body else
in time
in my mind, it
will always be you, but you
- really you -
don't really know that guy
you call me
all the time. No you don't.
Do you?
You used to.
Just after
you're mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Anything you have to say - question, critique, interpretation, praise or rebuke - is received with gratitude and interest.
If it looks like spam and contains a link, though, it will not be published. I will cherish it to myself, instead. Thank you!