when you're sitting in the cafe on the corner
tucked away cozy by the window
under the dark lights
a place we've been before
but you'll pretend to forget we ever were
i don't want to be your story,
the story you tell HER of thelast girl...
to touch your skin and drink your wine and dye your hair
it wouldn't be accurate ~ you could never capture me
in a word... i'd just be a character in your story
i don't want to be paraphrased or misrepresented that way.
so just let me be. punctuate me before you begin to speak.
free me by not letting me be a part of your story.
keep pretending to forget.
i'll exist in the only way i can.
in the candle flame on the table (between you)
in your melting butter
in the reflection of the mirror
in the laughs of the people around you
in your glass
in your knife
don't make me tangible to HER
(because I'll never be)
i don't want her to know
i don't want to be your story.
2002
2002
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