dearest

it's 1 a.m
lying alone i think of you 
and know
	my solitude counts for nothing
really

it's not as though there's any reality you can give me
this is not a criticism, love
i do not cannot criticise you but i know cold reality

is you cannot give me anything because that would make me
a thief 
and you a fence of stolen goods

	i am just another poet and i love
the reflection of your words

but for you to give me anything
but that would not be right
because even if i am 
	
falling
down
crazy
	
for you
that's because i have no one else
i'm clinging to kind words like a life raft
but there's sand under my feet
so i don't know why i cling

you are not mine to cling to
you are your own
and you have your own
and i shouldn't be a part of that

it's not like i know you really at all
or you me for that matter

so if you feel like going
(not that you ever were here)
i won't stop you

even though i want to

you know when you said i love you
i felt like i'd

caught fire

but it's like magnesium burning white hot and blinding for a moment
and what's left behind is
nothing really
	even if it used to be

as long as things where you are are good
i don't mind if you just say goodbye when you go
or i'll leave the light on
and the door unlocked
	thinking you'll be back

right.
i'm befuddled.
you're fourteen hours and a world away

i can't do this


January, 1996
© Lela Kaunitz