I am not that girl
That girl you make love to
That girl who whispers sweet things in your ear
That girl who smiles at you a smile like a promise
That girl who you held as she cried on a mattress that smelled like febreeze on menthol
That girl who put a daisy in your little sister's hair
That girl who made you run through black streets long after sundown as your mother rummaged the neighborhood wildly for you
That girl who sucked your fingertips
That girl who wrote lines of poetry on your body like it was a sacred forrest that she was marring
That girl soft skin
That girl glossy eyes
That girl rushing blood
That girl intentful hands
That girl touch of seraph

I am not her
I am not
Her
But you think I am
You think
I am