All the caring that I can

You were safe, but almost this morning
left the cloudy Europe anyway
for a want of me.
O' your arms were forming
my shape around your other pillow.
But could not make yourself to go.
The buildings and streets
did not smell like me
you wrote in your long letter.
You switched from cab to cab
and the subway stations
and small restaurants and coffee places
looking for a thing like I was.
Not found.

Now in this hour an unlit room.
Saying you cry cry.

Amber, there's nothing I can do.
I don't love you or
your long letters.
You have the teacup of the world at your lip.
Your boyfriend is rich.
If it did not break you, I would write
songs about the shape of
your neck, and the light, and
it hides in your hair.
But I don't love you.

Stay in Austria another season, and I will
go away.
Learn the hills, the names
of rivers you don't know yet.
Grow your children between two languages.
Don't be here when I die.
Austria - the clouds comb the mountain edges,
and I read that it snows.
Amber, I'm not a thing to leave
and come back.
Shared we never
the same space same breath same hour.
Only it was me making these
thoughts in your head. And now
the other me
making them leave.
Don't be here when I die.