a flash of light passed over me
taking note of every line/ mark/ blot
tracing me (or shall i say,
the edited .m.e. that’s supposed
to be a carbon copy)

but i can n.e.v.e.r be her

for i’m just an imitation/ replication/ simulation
(a blurred copy of the one you truly like)

or maybe

maybe i’m just afraid that you would not like
the me that’s marked “©Original”