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.