poem

Through the clouds,

out in the clearing,

He caught my eyes,

his pale skin sparkling.

He told me of the danger,

of staying with him here.

He told me to go away,

watched as I fought back the tears.

He said he never meant to hurt me,

but I just had to go.

So I fought back his tight grasp,

and simply told him, "No."

He said, "Please, I'm begging;

I don't want you to die."

To that, I had no answer.

I simply said, "To leave you, would be suicide."

His response was silence.

So we both stayed in that clearing.

Our meadow.

Forever.

~1/5/09