I am forgiving you like dawn.
A gray, dark and terrible like death
And grass wet and cold
Give way in a pink burst I feel low in myself.

You are still out there somewhere,
and someday you might grab another girl's hand
and drag her, giggling, to the roof of an old theater.
She may gasp for love of you,
breathing hot stars that forget to burn.
I hope you have learned not to break her
And that you now cradle trust, fragile and beautiful.