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.