Stolen

When she becomes you

and you become her.

See she’s that other half of me

that made room for herself.

The light to my darkness for

awhile,

but then she becomes my darkness

awakening my insecurities.

Yawning like the dew in the early mist of dawn.

Each person thereafter becomes her,

and I am forced to compare them

I am forced to want her in each and every one of them.

She broke me

then put me in her box for safe keeping,

Only to take me out

glue me back together

and then repeat her process once again.

This poem is about: 
Me

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