This Is Not Me.

It’s funny, the ways I find
to pass the time.
But what have I become?

I’ve become someone
something not me.
And I’m not proud of it.

But at the same time, I am;
enfolds me.
smother me,
suffocate me.
warm on my neck,
Whispers away any doubts.
What could go wrong?
But this is not me.

I couldn’t possibly get cold feet
when your warm ones are so desperately
tangled up in mine.
This is not me.

How am I to choose the other
when your eyes plead to have me so?
Saying no is not so easy.
This is not me.

Love isn’t real.
But Lust sure as hell made itself known
right there between your sheets.
This is not me.

Morning struggles to recollect
accompanied by
silent exits
and accusatory stares;
whispered gossip
and guilty smiles.
I don’t deserve this.

1, 2, 3,
This is not me.

1, 2, 3,
this is not me.

I don’t want this.

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