I know who I am
    what I remember
    how I felt
I know who I am

There is this mantle
    thrown over me
    hiding my truth
    for his benefit.

I keep throwing it off.
I am not that person.

He, most of all knows this,
    yet his mask continues
    to be painted on my face.
    Even as he is away.

This is my biggest fear:
    that I become the image
    transposed on me
    and not myself.