At some point in my naïvety
I believed I could actually save you
and cauterize the lament
of your moments when
they became slightly too piercing,
then scrape the scabs
from your bleeding tear ducts
and whisper incantations
about the beauty of living.
Yet I failed to remember
that you had not asked to be saved
or even diagnosed by me
and that you're just a person
with pain and joy and realities
all your own
and a self-tailored life support system.
But I'd still like to save you,
tear you out of the vapid malaise
and inspire joy to leak from your pores.
Being your superhero
would be ideal
but I'm not superhero, honey.
I hope you'll settle
fot someone who cares
even if she can't kiss it all away.

07/07/2002

Author's Note: the frustration of distance both physical and mental

Posted on 07/07/2002
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