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I thought I saw you the other day,
you were looking at a window display.
You twisted a curly, black lock 'round your finger,
carefully I walked closer and watched you linger.
I thought I saw you, for that raven mane,
in its glorious messiness seemed so much the same:
as the mane I once bathed my face in;
as the mane whose smell made my head spin;
as the mane I closed my eyes and dreamed dreams in.
I thought I saw you the other day,
I seemed to catch two green eyes looking away.
Reflecting off innocent glass, still fiery,
scanning the trinkets and boxes admiringly.
I thought I saw you, for you looked away,
the way you used to when I'd hear you say:
you don't know what makes me happy.
I can't stand it when you stick right next to me,
and one day I'll go somewhere you'll never find me.
I thought I saw you the other day,
a mere two blocks from where we used to stay.
But my heartstrings, this time never tugged,
and in my mind, no butterfly illusions of love.
Then I knew it wasn't you, when I heard my name.
And rather than fluttering, and confusion and pain:
I felt like the creature that loses its fear for the flame.
I felt time and distance, and a very awkward sense,
that somehow you closed something, which I haven't opened since.
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Mistaken Identity
"Hello, Louise," he said to me.
I smiled and nodded, though I'm not she.
"And how's your mother," he then
I saw your face,
Amongst the crowd.
I called your name,
I yelled it loud.
My words they fell,
Down on the street.
Lost forever,
At
Mistakenly Identified
I was there when he said I do
I gave birth to his son
I became wife and mother
Until all was said and done
I
Who are you?
In constant danger, where can I turn? I try to forget, when will I learn?
Who can I trust, who can I tell? These
That is not the one I am
That is not me now
I don't know if that was me then
Could you spot me in a crowd?
I don't think I was
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Poetry: Mistaken identity
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