You can’t damage me-
After what the world has done-
What can man touch?
It’s the same scenario over again-
Recycled creativity-
Hell, these words are no more myne
Than yours.

But your eyes-
Your posture-
The hurt was just so evident
And it stepped upon me-
Made my chest heavy with realization-
It was I who threw that stone.

Or so you will remember it to be.
Blatant is the fact that it was you
Who struck the match
That made me drop the rock.
Either or.
This is not a lost love poem-
I know where myne has gone
And where it will stay retreated.