You see me from afar.
With him.
I see the finely tuned cogs
Twisting and turning frantically in your mind,
I know you wonder.

What I would give to reach out
And reassure you of the simple fact,
That he is not,
Nor will ever be
You.

He may wear that blue sweater
Often
Because I complimented it long ago.
But you still wear that green shirt,
Quite often.
And that means more.

He may be my "type,"
And you most certainly were not.
But with you,
Never had I been so sure
Of a bad decision.

He may be charming,
Kind,
Gentle,
Perfect.
But you were intellectual,
Passionate,
Wild,
Mine.

He may be able to make me
Happy,
But you were able to make me
Me.

And that is why you should know,
That he's no you.
So he'll never be mine.