The Last Time

Last time I saw you, I saw me.  Lately I’ve been looking in the mirror, and this caged bird is now free. Freedom slips my mind; sometimes I sing a little off key. Overcoming stage fright–hit the lights please. I want them to see my message by reason darkness.

What they thinking are nightmares, just a city girls dreams. This empathy has this piece I’m writing mirroring me. A victim of split personality. Trying to divide the thoughts and subtract the feelings.

Bring upon Confusion…

When I see you again, finally I feel empty like the glass you left me with, that I threw against the wall. Except when it hit the ground it didn’t break, but out spilled every memory.

Can you feel what I feel, when I feel what I’m feeling? You shouldn’t because I’m numb. Selfishly selfless; although I never cared for any other than myself. What should i have done? I was helpless!

The next time I saw you, I saw me swimming in my tears, a shellfish. Beyond this course exterior, I am a jewel waiting to be made a necklace.

Then I remembered that I forgot. Recuperating flesh wounds with internal bleeding; often I find myself hiding in my feelings. I forgot that I remember.

So the next time I saw him– posture immaculate, a smile moonlit in a dim mind, eyes seductive, with his arms wide. He thrust his hands upon my hips, and squeezed me until his spirit made my soul cry.

Now I can’t even fathom what you look like.


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