If you speak to me,

Please understand this:

 

You have no right to know who I am. 

Anything you have to say to me is

Meant for a girl you once knew.

I am not her.

 

I am not the ashes, heap of ashes,

You left in your wake. I am not 

The tears you once wiped from my eyes,

I am not the ones you once cried.

 

I am not the one who made you 

What you are. I am not the fire

At your tongue. I am not the trophy

You once won. 

 

I am not the pretty broken thing,

Busted bird with a busted wing,

I am not the one who held the

Words you said. I did not share your bed.

 

I am not your veiled, weeping sun, and I

Am not your laughing half-moon. Yes,

We're gone. We ended too soon, but frankly

I'm not here to swoon over you. 

 

I am not your lover, though I loved you so,

I am the winter and I am the snow,

Beautiful and cold, I am the place you're still

Stuck; intrepid soles sinking into mud.

 

You may have killed me, lover mine,

But I stand here breathing, one of a kind,

And, darling, I'm back for your blood.