I put on that dress for the funeral I had arranged
To bury my wishful thinking of you.
Me and my grief was wrapped in blood red,
Beautiful but sore, and the memory of our first meeting-
a balloon inside I was ready to breathe out and let go.
How could I know that you would burst that balloon
And give me new ones, with myriad colours,
I could never again show.

Your essence in the room and your shadows,
The presence of you and me, the tea,
Was an inevitable crossing of our different paths
of sadness and loss.
You were there and you were still far away,
I was there, with my heart running behind
And I chose darkness to stop my eyes remembering
How beautiful and lost you were that night.

The bleeding has not stopped since your touch.
Nor have I been able to hold on to
Or let go of these balloons yet.
The strings got stuck on the roof,
Entangled, spinning in the wind in a mad dance.
In tonight's rain the colours seem dark blue,
They seem so close yet out of reach,
Touching me then fading nowhere, like old fairytales,
Or you.