dear,

there is a part of me that i gave to you;
i don't want,
i won't take it back, it's yours--a present,
a gift of who i am, and memories,
a silver fingerprint of what i loved.
you own this part of me.

you have left your mark on others
and you left your part of me
and spent your time forgetting
(or spent your time trying to,
time that we won't share)
(and i spent mine, you know)
and i've left my mark, dear,
i've become more of me
and i own this part of things;
it's not yours to share
but i have found so much to show
for all of this craziness

i feel naiive, i feel
a strange sense of home
where i should feel fear and pain
i feel morning instead
i know it's just another beginning
and i've woken up so many times in my life
i know so much better
but i don't care to.