Your name is like a song I heard when I was a child. A dance of shadows beneath the glare of bright lights, maybe the sound of rain on a stained glass window. Do you remember the platform where our voices gave birth in the night air? Or the hollow beneath it where we read music and I gave you a blue sticker of a flying unicorn? Sometimes I wonder if the halls where we walked still contain the fragments of our ghosts.

I never wrote you confessional poems on pastel stationary or longed for your touch beneath the winter stars. I never painted my face for your admiration or cursed the day you were born. I was a silent pale shadow and you -- a voice I longed to hold somewhere deep inside.

If the vagabond in my heart hadn't beckoned me to the other side of the world,
...perhaps then I would have been around to save you.

Copyright - Cho S. Kucifer 3.28.11