This woman sleeps next to me,
and I can’t remember the last time
I looked in her eyes,
or thought of her as something other than
an orbiting planet to me, the sun
The extraordinary veiled in ordinary

My amnesia grows

If this life was my own, these dust-bones would have blown away
Thank God I’m not in control
Her heart would be ground zero, devastated by a senseless man

My amnesia grows

Sleeping next to the daughter of the King 
I forget who This Woman is
This woman
Not
That woman
And if you know the story you’d understand the difference
between this and that-
a caress on the face, or a knife in the back

This woman sleeps next to me
And I wonder, what kind of man will I be
when she wakes up