Ancient history erupts a volcano in my eye
Burning with your heat of sunlight flamed halo
You are my friend
You just don't care
I'm not Kim Gordon - I'm not indie white trash goddess
Never claimed to be your perfection.

Salt in the wound, I won't touch you
You burn me
I am poetry, I am laughter in the nights of tears
I cry, I lie, I'm a rhyme in mind of time thought I could climb your ladder of body love and blanket words cover me thought you were my northern star but you are far.
You are an ocean drowning me
Salt sting crashing wave
Naive like always child hope dreams of beauty crystallizing in darkness
Breathless to look at - dangerous to touch - unnatural hand feel twist of satin of ash black smoke shot blind in my one life your many wonderous worlds in which to hide
You are buried deep within your skin.

I have been blind.
My eyes are open now guarded stone towers between your ocean and your star nonexistant
Waiting for the tide to die or swallow me gloriously rejoicing like Heaven angels choir dance because without you life was a little less sacred
Just motion and music
Just enough to stay alive.

So with this poem I offer not dramatic guilt, but a promise of retreat back to my own life
For you are free
I am free
We are anything we want to be.
Fly on as far as you can go because I've always had faith in your many talents and mysteries so take my gift of freedom I expect nothing in return.

These words don't come as I mean them they are just letters combining in thought and absence of your laughter
It was nice to know you again
And again
Goodbye.

CF
4/08/02