The fire inside
drawing me
like a moth to your flame
I thought I loved you
I thought I cared
but the fire burning bright
was not mine to share.
We were two young people
in the bottomlands where dreams are small
where the only fires are embers
drowned in drugs and alcohol
where if you slip, and if you fall
there is no net, there is no cushion,
only pain and misery, and death in the end
But you did not slip.
You did not fall.
You left it all.
All that you cared for.
All that you loved.
Burned in the flames
of drive and desire
as rope to an anchor
that would hold you back
Cut and gone, abandoned.
I saw you on the TV news last night
walking towards a head of state
looking smart in your sharp dress
a smile upon your face
but in your eyes, a flash of fear
brief, then gone
But I know.
the bottomlands are here
No matter how far you go
no matter how far you run
The bottomlands are waiting here for you.
