Lost

You found me, behind the sofa of my heart,
which I didn't know I had lost in the first place.
I thought me (I) was just here,
as always. Never noticed it was gone.
Maybe I had an imposter rather than me.
Me? when did it leave
to hide with the fallen dust motes next to the wall?
I should have missed me, when I was not here,
and wish me (I) had not gone away
without saying goodbye
to I (me).
That is the selfishness of me though:
you are generosity personified,
maybe why you thought to look
under the cushions.

This is how all 'I's end,
without me guiding it up the path.
So sorry,
I didn't mean to lose me behind the sofa,
so thank you for enticing me out from hiding,
in order that I might have me
safely back again.
You don't know how painful is
not to have (be) you.