Stranger

I became a stranger to myself the day I threw rocks at your door.
When I tossed pebbles at your window, like jellybeans on the floor.

I became a stranger when I drove an hour to surprise you.
And there was no sight of you.

I became a stranger to myself when I took you back.
And remorse or forgiveness you lacked.

When I could look you in the eyes and see through your lies.
But never changed my feelings for you, the stranger and stranger I grew.

I became a stranger to myself the night I let you back into my heart.
To break, kill and rip it apart.

I did not know that woman crying at the foot of your bed.
The woman who wished she was dead.

I did not know the woman, who believed it not to be true.
That you loved someone else too.

I was outside myself the day I killed you.
But inside my heart had already died as you had killed me too.

When I look back to see, I had become a stranger to me.