For you, no hand on the shoulder
+++++++ as we stand over the smallish casket of
+++++++++++ what-could-have-been
Raw hearts, and the birth of a friendship
+++++++ at the death of a love

No, you—
you, I would set on fire.
and watch you dance.

+++++++++++++++++ Because you would dance.

+++++++ Dance while your yellow hair red-brand curls into
++++++++++++ skinny black ember-wisps
+++++++ and your skin bubbles, cracks and burns

Dance, laugh and tell me how everything is perfect
+++++++ how you’ve never been better
+++++++++++++ how every day is your best day ever

Burn, and tell me how every moment
+++++++ is pure joy
and smile at me with bright white teeth
++++++++++++ while hot fire claws at your neck

Don’t dare, as flames weave through your rib cage,
+++++++ don’t dare admit that anything hurts,
+++++++++++++ that you’ve ever felt fear

Don’t—don’t don’t don’t dare
with your eyes popped and leaking down your cheeks
+++++++ don’t you dare in that moment
descend to earth and be human

No, stay lofty, golden guru,
+++++++ don’t let the sticky soot of sincerity settle on your warm, brown skin
Don’t let the tickling heat of humility wilt your bouncing curls,
or let the belly-churn of compassion
+++++++ upset your dinner.

Float above.

Oh, golden guru, tell me how we had
+++++++ one beautiful summer together.

I would burn away your pretty, impenetrable outsides
+++++++ and hope to find a soul inside.
I would kneel and sift through smoldering flesh,
++++++++++++++++++ wet blood and blackened skin against my hands,
push aside charred bones and brittle sinew
+++++++ to find a sliver of your heart

to find any part of you
+++++++ that knows to say
+++++++ “I’m sorry.”

Golden guru; inspiring, twisted asshole; you unimaginable bastard and cold-hearted sick fuck; pothead; dickhead; mind-fucker; shallow-hearted, damaged, soul-sick, pussy-teasing motherfucker; you hateful, ugly shithead; you bat-shit insane, goddamn spiteful heartless cocksucker,

I wish, I hope, I pray
+++++++ that I will stop hating you someday.

sift through my own ashes to find
++++ pity
forgiveness
++++ sorrow

I want to see your bright, shallow smile
+++++++ and look at you with gentle eyes,
feel for you the tenderness and care
+++++++++++++++ that they talked, tore and beat out of you
so long ago

Oh, my golden guru,
my false idol,
+++++++ my tarnished Buddha with an insatiable taste for brunettes,
someday,
I want to weep for you

and heal both our wounds.