Oh, God, he’s not like you at all.
I feel a sense of it’s so wrong
And just a hint of no
I don’t know what I’m doing.
I never know, not any more.
He’s not like you.
Some of his words, they accidentally bruise
And I fix myself with bandages of ignorance
And try to ignore the spreading blue.
You never gave me those kinds of marks to mend
Though you did cut deep into my heart.
Maybe I can only feel deeply
Or nothing at all.
I can talk to you, he says.
So could you, once.
You make me laugh, he says.
You said that, once.
His hair is dark and so was yours,
His hands are rough, like yours were.
He grins at me the way you did,
And he asks about my loves and dreams
And fears and hates, the way you did.
But he kisses me full on the mouth,
And you would never do that.
Oh God, he’s not like you at all.