Stranger

I didn't want to hear those words,
not then, not ever.
Much less say them,
and in my mind: it wasn't me.
No no no...
the words weren't rolling off the tip of my tongue,
but someone else's completely.
It was a stranger saying,
and never ever me,
"It's over".

I didn't feel it in me,
not instantly.
Just gradually,
a few minutes having passed,
I felt it...
the shattering,
the breaking,
the aching.

"It's over",
two words.
Two bodies,
two souls,
two hearts,
two minds.
But only one
b r o k e n.

I didn't want to hear those words,
not then, not ever.
Much less say them,
and in my mind: it wasn't me.
No no no...
the words weren't rolling off the tip of my tongue,
but someone else's completely.
It was a stranger saying,
and never ever me,
"It's over".

It was a stranger,
and still is.
I look at the mirror
and there's so much I see,
but none of it,
none of it...
is
me.

None of it is who I was,
none of it is what I wanted to be.
Simply the traces of my had been
keep fading.
And perhaps someday I won't even
know who I once was.

I hope someday, I'll find myself aquianted,
aquianted with this stranger that somehow
goes by my name,
claims my life.

I didn't want to hear those words,
not then, not ever.
Much less say them,
and in my mind: it wasn't me.
No no no...
the words weren't rolling off the tip of my tongue,
but someone else's completely.
It was a stranger saying,
and never ever me,
"It's over".

It was a stranger.
Never ever me.

You know
and I know,
that I wouldn't have said them.
If it had been my choice,
it wouldn't have been a stranger,
no,
it would have been
me...
when I said
"It's not over".

But I couldn't,
I didn't.
Because I was forced.
Forced to spiral into this,
into:
my
own
personal
hell.

I didn't get the choice,
couldn't use my voice.
You know, oh so well,
what I would have done.
And somehow you don't care.

I didn't want to hear those words,
not then, not ever.
Much less say them,
and in my mind: it wasn't me.
No no no...
the words weren't rolling off the tip of my tongue,
but someone else's completely.
It was a stranger saying,
and never ever me,
"It's over".

It was a stranger,
but somehow you find you like her more
than you ever did me.

You like this ending,
and don't you dare deny it.
You like it.
Because you never loved me,
not even half
of what I loved you.

This stranger,
yes,
she claims everything I know.
She claims my thoughts,
and dream.
But she's a fool like me,
she hopes.
She hopes.

I didn't want to hear those words,
not then, not ever.
Much less say them,
and in my mind: it wasn't me.
No no no...
the words weren't rolling off the tip of my tongue,
but someone else's completely.
It was a stranger saying,
and never ever me,
"It's over".

Hey stranger,
what the hell are you doing?
Hey stranger,
tell me:
What's it like to waste your days
on him and him alone?
Hey stranger,
how come?
How come...
you
can
still
                                          Hope?


Hey stranger,
did I dream you up too?
Hey stranger,
am I pretending you know the love I felt for him too?
Hey stranger,
please please make this be un-true.
Hey stranger,
bring him back?
Somehow?
Someway?

Hey stranger,
Look!
It's you!
I can't hide forever
because underneath the layers,
of what I'll never know.
It's me.
It's me.
It's me who plays the fool.
It's me who hopes and prays,
someday...someday...
But I'll go on pretending,
I'll go on pretending.
But maybe,
maybe if I hadn't been built up to this point,
if I hadn't been forced
into
my
own
personal
hell...
then maybe I wouldn't even have to say these words.

And the best part?
Sadly, this is just another poem,
one that will be forgotten.
And tucked into a drawer somewhere,
one that maybe, just maybe...
strangers will read.
And pretend they understand.
But no one knows,
no one knows the stranger in my head,
in my heart,
my soul.

No.
No one.
No one
but HE
knows.