I didn’t kill that girl,
That girl from years ago.
She is still alive,
But watches from afar.
I feel her presence when
I am in love.
She’s next to me when
I am walking alone,
In our own private world.
She’s smiling when
I wear feminine dresses and skirts.
She’s holds me when
I cry the same way I did
All those years ago.
She prays with me at night
To the moon.
She understands
And she’s not mad at me.
The Paramour 