Let Go

 

 

This is a poem to my friend, Karen

whose blue eyes and golden hair

could not torture me so.

How could such remorse crystalize

around ones dream lover

so perfect, so warm a smile

i have coveted her in erics arms while

the pain in my chest knaws physical

deaths.

And when he hurt the frail-sweet angel,

my compassion overwhelmed the pain to

protect her, to keep her,

but the Fool can scarcely ease the Queens pain

while the King who knows not how to treat her

beats her with heart-numbing apathy

and clinging to HIS image as on a cliffs

edge she

dangles

millions of miles over me yet deep

in the recesses of Hells Perfect Pain.

And thus I write you this poem, Karen

never meant for your eyes

yet somehow for your soul, and my

bloodied abcess where a soul

once reposed.