Nicole Mē | Original Poetry | Original Spoken Word Poetry

I keep on asking myself
who are you?
I keep on scratching my head

I think you’re the baker who made two dozen

in case they didn’t bake

I think you’re the jeweller who paid for mining

and then set the gems between stone

not minding if that cost their brilliance as long as none were lost

I think you’re the pilot who gained his wings but now only ever goes auto

and a kisser with lips to navigate but who purses them instead

I think you’re amazing but maybe you’re not

_ but not for the reasons you’d think

I like the cracks, the frown, the terror

I think it’s part of your charm

I know the dark places you visit … I followed you to town

Because you didn’t see me doesn’t mean I didn’t go

I loved you the same in the morning although it hurt in my bones

But you keep me asking: who are you?

The more I know the less I do

So maybe who are you
is what I should be asking myself