revealed

last night, I did it -
I told someone all about it

the search, the name,
the words I heard,
the sounds that came,
and the misery of not knowing

I told an absolute stranger
who happens to know his name
and I could hear her
hard swallow dry throat

"five guinesses" she told me
and I told her to look
and see if she saw it.
she's number three to see it.

and I told her,
"but you know it doesn't really matter,"

true or not, he won't come,
he won't write,
he won't talk to me,
I am a shadow muse.

I look at my name
and grin, or rather sneer.

it's my name alright,
and my words,
my situations,
under his name.

everyone knows me
- a little piece -
but not who it was really

except that I am him
sometimes
and he is me
sometimes

and you know,
it doesn't matter
even now
because I'm still here
and he's still there

and this stranger
may tell anyone else
or she may forget me,
in all, it doesn't matter,
because I've been inside it
and I'll be inside it again
until the day I die.