You look at her,
She's beautiful,
She's funny,
And unique.
But,
She isn't her.
You look at her dark straight hair.
You stare--
Touch it even.
It slowly transforms into curly twists before your eyes.
You stare in disbelief;
Rub your eyes.
You stare at her round sweet face,
Her pretty eyes,
And her petite lips.
It shape shifts into a strong jawline,
Gorgeous brown eyes (that you fell in love with once),
And soft vivacious lips.
You rub your eyes.
You hear her voice,
It's soft and new.
You smile.
Soon her voice mixes into another,
It's so velvet and mesmerizing.
You can't believe it.
Everywhere you look, images of the girl appear,
Every song you hear is sung by her,
And every sleeping-waking thoughts you have is her.
Aren't you over it?
You tangle your hand into hers.
Hoping the image will stay.
You hold onto her,
Begging the feeling to never stray.
You coil back, and
You look at her.
She isn't me--
And she never will be.
