Another me could’ve found a way
To hear the things you didn’t say,
And know what all you needed done,
Not you, but her, that other one.
And proven worthy of her trust,
Her grace, her company, her lust.
But I scarcely knew that she was there,
And, of the you I was aware,
She did the other you no good
To be not as the other would;
To disguise her so as I’d not see
What she was needing most of me.
But there was no other me to seek
The other you who did not speak;
Who just expected me to know
Her other heart she did not show,
And somehow to commiserate
With her who I first saw of late.
The one me did all he could do,
Having too late met the other you.