
Stolen
When she becomes you
and you become her.
See she’s that other half of me
that made room for herself.
The light to my darkness for
awhile,
but then she becomes my darkness
awakening my insecurities.
Yawning like the dew in the early mist of dawn.
Each person thereafter becomes her,
and I am forced to compare them
I am forced to want her in each and every one of them.
She broke me
then put me in her box for safe keeping,
Only to take me out
glue me back together
and then repeat her process once again.
This poem is about:
Me