She will never be me

She may cook you breakfast
You may indulge her with wine
‘The head is not more native to the heart’
…and that’s the bottom line.

She may lay across your bed
On the side I once woke up
She may take all the love I was once fed
An aphrodisiac in a take-away cup

She could doll herself in lace
And make you feed off her linger
but it will be a demoted taste
A tactless dinner

She may be clued on the history
But I don’t wish her harm
Your mother wont love her mystery
Yet she still loves my charm
that’s enough for me

As soon as you realise she is not me
The faster you acknowledge she will never be
I have cut ties with my thoughts of you
like a leaf cleansed by dew
I am free of what she will never be
Realise there is only one of me