dances me madly backwards
through the mirror of your eyes.
born to walk through fire,
your footprints linger
high on the mountain ledge,
the drop exhilarating 
and final.
dance me outside into van Gogh's "starry night"
lay my head gently
on the leaves of tomorrow.
memories slipping, fading into the hurricane
of what once was.
i feel your breathing
and your heart beating faster.
in a whisper
love is gone.

Go ahead
hold me a little longer
than usual.
You say to me,
without using any
words at all,
"it should have been me,
its still me."
Like i don't already see
those sky blue eyes
every time i close my own.
Because we're still holding
on to god knows what.
Because it is you
and it will always be you.

It's your birthday and I wanted to send you flowers.
But I didn't want to intrude on your little patch of glory.

I write poetry
for eveything else
has failed

My life has no bottom
It's Hell down inside
my well

Do not feel like you are
sorry
Do not feel at all

Go write some kind of
poetry
It's better than digging wells