What if the “I” in me wasn’t in we?
What if I couldn’t be the person you want me to be?
What if I wanted you to begin to see the real me?
Would you accept me as I am and take a gamble?
Would you still grace my book in the preamble?
These are the questions I ask in reflecting upon us
Wondering if you’d set me free to climb the next bus,
Wondering if it’s worth it to stir up all that fuss
That would surely ensue, in separating the me from us.
It’s a subject I constantly delay, too afraid to even discuss.
What if I wanted to roam freely down other streets?
What if I just wanted the sound of other heart beats?
What if I longed for the tangy taste of other exotic eats?
Would you accept me when I returned with other sweets?
Would you take me back knowing I might want repeats?
This is what I ponder incessantly, perpetually in my mind
That if you knew why I smiled, you might not be so kind.
You’d remind me that it wasn’t this contract we’d signed.
And you’d realize that our stars were no longer aligned,
And that you too had long since from your feelings resigned.
What if we just continued to pretend that all was well?
I fear that our lives would be a mockery and become a living hell.