Friday, 16 October 2015

The Girl Who Isn't Me

A note from Joelle... 
The Girl Who Isn’t Me
By Joelle A. Owusu
Does she notice the four sugars,
You sneak into your tea?
What’s she like, this girl?
The girl who isn’t me?

She hasn’t even realised,
The weird dent on your knee.
Who even is this girl?
The girl who isn’t me.

It’s been more than a fortnight,
Since you made me leave my key.
Did you give it to the girl?
The girl who isn’t me?

She’s thinner, smart and cooler.
No one can disagree.
But can you learn to love,
A girl who isn’t me?

Your clothes are where you left them,
in piles on the settee.
That girl calls it a ‘sofa’.
The girl who isn’t me.

Fuck this, I’m getting wasted.
One shot turns into three.
I’m tempted to drunk text her.
The girl who should be me.

It’s not like I’ve been stalking
Your profiles frantically.
I just can’t believe you’re seeing
A girl who isn’t me.

Does she put up with your mood swings?
When you’re loathing your degree?
How can you stand to be with?
A girl who isn’t me?

Just answer this one question:
What do you really see?
In that wretched girl you’re dating?
That girl who isn’t me?

I must be going crazy.
Who still writes poetry?
I bet your girlfriend hates it.
The girl who isn’t me.

I’m keeping your new console,
And your comfy blue hoodie.
That’s what you get for kissing
A girl who isn’t me.

Maybe I’m just jealous?
I think it’s clear to see.
You clearly love your girl,
Your girl who isn’t me.

You told me all your secrets,
Under that big oak tree.
Can you trust this girl?
This girl who isn’t me.

You can’t, that’s why you grab her.
Silence her every plea.
You laugh and call her stupid.
That’s what you did to me.

I must have dodged a bullet.
I know I’ve been set free.
I hope she breaks your heart.
The girl who isn’t me.

I cannot be the girl,
The girl I used to be.
I guess that’s why you’re now with
A girl who isn’t me.

I see this as a blessing,
It surely has to be.
You’re now stuck with a girl,
A girl who isn’t me.

Your days, my friend, are numbered.
You listening to me?
‘Cause I still know your secrets.
And they’re not safe with me.

The cuts, the bumps and bruises,
I claimed I could not see.
Does your girl have them too?
The girl who isn’t me?

I’ll do my best to save her.
She’s too naïve to see,
that you can’t control your temper,
with a girl who isn’t me.

I wear these scars like war paint,
For all the world to see.
They show how hard I fought,
For that girl and for me.

I did my best to save her.
I tried to help her flee.
But you damaged, hurt and ruined
the girl who’s now like me.

The creaking of your window.
How cold your house must be?
You’ll always have to live with,
the girl who once was me.

I hope this poem haunts you.
I’ll never say sorry.
That girl you called a weakling?
That girl just isn’t me.

I hope you enjoyed my little piece of poetry. 
Feel free to interpret this in any way you like. It's been really interesting hearing so many different versions!
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