It's not you,
it's me.
The me you turned the me
who wanted to be with you
into.
The me that is more what you
imagined me to be,
than the me that could have been.
The me I stare at,
as you would at an old friend
in disbelief
at the embarassment they have become.
It's not you,
it's me,
me,
me.
And I want me back.
4.5.10
Split
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Imagined verse
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4 comments:
And I want me back.
I can see the two halves, running through a sarson ka khet, with their arms outstretched.
I see tulip fields...
Tulip fields are *so* 1980s.
I feel you. Sometimes we turn into someone we hardly recognize without us noticing the transition.
www.dellahaye.blogspot.com
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