Getting Over

I think
I am living your life.
slipping it on like an old glove;
being you,
feeling your thoughts,
speaking your moods.

Why yesterday,
someone said, it was your smile
that almost reached
into my eyes.

I worry, someday,
you will come back,
and take it all away;
and I won’t remember
who I was before,
did I like mocha or chai latte.

But perhaps it was
a simple trade;
and somewhere,
you are frowning,
being me;

standing tip-toe
biting your lip,
pasting neon stars
on a naked sky,
thinking of you.

7/6/2015: Linked to Poets United