You and I were like Alexander and Genghis Khan—we conquered the entire world;
In your arms I was the oyster,
who proudly displayed his very first pearl.

You and I were giants—no match for Jack and his pitiful magic beans.
I gazed lovingly into your eyes; you were the golden goose of my dreams

You and I were Dostoesvky,
Dickensian when we talked.
But soon enough, we stopped listening,
and all we ever did was fought.

Remember when I was Shah Jahan
and I built you the Taj Mahal?
Your eyes despised it, soon enough,
and you demanded I add another wall.

Do you recall the times I tried to redeem myself with jasmine scented words?
Pretty soon all you did was chastise me
with your acid speech that burned.

You and I could've reached the top of Everest, but all you did was tear down my Great Wall.
I wanted you to be my empress, but you just wanted to watch my empire fall.

Now I am lost for words—my lips have been sealed and then sewn shut;
I just wish we could go back to you and I, instead of left questioning what is what.