No, I am not alright--
thanks so for not asking anymore.
(I guess you finally realized how much I hate it when you do!)
Your concern is warranted, though:
I am here alone and sad on a grey, rainy day--
Yes, I know it rains on you too,
but what comes down upon you
are drops of molten gold that soldify
into the sweet chains of adoration
and endless opportunity.
What pours into my face
(in those rare instances when I look up
for a sign that all this is not hopeless)
are sheets of liquid steel that form
dark walls of obligation and one barred window
through which I can just glimpse the beauty
that would be mine if I were with you again...
So now these are my tears, not the rain--
would you dry them?
No, I know you cannot--
I am so far apart from you
already (in both space and time)
that I have almost forgotten
the sound of your voice...
the twist of your smile...
the touch of your fingers...
the scent of your skin...
(And I am sure you have forgotten me.)
Yes, even your kiss seems now
to have been an hallucination.
What I can remember most are your eyes.
They were full of so many things--
magic in one moment
(a lovely magic that could
give me back my life)
evil in the next
(a gentle evil to which
I would gladly give in)
and I believe I might even
have seen love...
So now I have a question for you--
was that what I saw?
If you will tell me whether you love me,
then no, I will never ask again.
If you want, yes...I will go away--
leave you alone in spirit, as I already have in body.
(But I will still pray you will always feel the rain.)