I have touched and been felt
up the one side
around another
fed grapes by naked nymphs on
Mount Vesuvius , well, almost, it
is in my head along with Sunflowers
painted by Van Gogh,
Poems varying from Dylan to
ELO
telephone calls to home
from Vietnam,
or memories of a log cabin
on Silver Lake in the middle of Michigan.

Or is it all made up?
Funny looking back through so many years,
it is all so clear,
or is it?

You're the princess in the tower.
You're the minutes in my hour.

You're the question and I'm the answer.
You're the music and I'm the dancer.

You're the lie and I'm the truth
You're the evidence and I'm the proof

You're the tear beneath my eye.
You're the reason that I cry.

I can only hear your voice now
Through recordings
How sick is that?
I mean I do know for a fact
That you are dead.
But honestly I can't get it through my head.

I entrusted you with a tiny flame
to grow and to protect.
Together we grew it into a bigger one
You held it for me
So that one day I'd take
it back.
Why'd you douse it?
When it was still growing?
When I trusted you with something so important?
To me.
You ended what I believed in,
because you wanted something bigger.
I thought you'd be different.
But like every other shelter of
that little flame,
you failed.
Because you saw something more
magnificent.
You lost sight
of the beauty that you held in
your hands.
So you let
the rain fall through,
your crumbling will
and let it drip on the
growing flame.
So don't ask me for
another.
My match can't light another.