Thinking about you is like running my hand
over a wound shaped like you
A wounded shape, like you.
Thinking about the past is like prying back
my life, shaped since you,
Now lead by a person, shaped like me,
who is kind of like me, but missing a part
Since being apart
Has led me away
Or led me astray
From the way I used to be,
with you.
So what I'm really saying is
I miss the me that I was
The me that was me, because,
I was, with you.
The me that I can't retrieve,
since you.
So I guess what I'm really saying,
Is that the wound that I'm feeling,
The hole that I'm holding,
Is really
shaped like me.