Ophelia - now - might I see you
          with your unwashed grey sweater and torn blue jeans
                    ***** brown hair much longer now -
          you will not smell like you did in June,
          patchouli oil, and stale cigarettes now -
          and you'll look at me with dull grey eyes
                    and your smile so forced you ask
                              how I'm doing

mad gleam in my eye returned
I see the river running, long and black,
          I see the flowers you never received from hateful men -
you must hate me for leaving you behind
          I was obsessed with the highway
          and you with staying home -
I will say hello and look away

Ophelia -
watch the flowers going downstream,
          fallen now, and brown, all brown
            wilted memories of a past
            you cannot hold forever -

last time I saw you was December
          you were so... strange
you seemed so cold with your new wanton obsessions -
  so unlike the shimmering of the summer
  I think, sometimes, you must have hated me then
          I don't care -
I wear clean clothes now and shave every day.
          It's almost March;
I can feel warm sunlight on my shoulders.
I do not hate you -
the ring you gave me is gone -
I must have lost it somewhere
and your necklace shattered on a cold tile floor,
still, I think of you, sometimes,
  but the flowers are dead
the flowers wilted so long ago
                    Ophelia