I know i exist as a distant memory,

like a grey area in a white speck,

men of greater standing than mine have had trouble dealing with pain,

men with greater control and better comport at handling the wire have said it,

have sung of their experiences with love,

the heartbreak

the pain,

my medication has been Elsa (my guitar),

i write songs,

i spend money,

i buy new clothes,

i try new things to clear my mind of you,

to put you as a memory,

but it ain't working.

So i decided to tell you about

the pain,

the withdrawals,

the poems,

the concerts,

the women who have come after you,

you will always be my pre-maddona girl,

but i have to learn to separate and detach myself from you,

so that you don't sneak in and put me down under,

i hope that you won't take this in the wrong way,

i have been through a hundred degrees of separation,

and i am admitting that i fucked up a little somewhere,

so help me to fix me,

help me to move on,

cause in this year love has blossomed

and alliances have been formed,

but the coldness,

the wounds still burn and hurt as they did a year ago.

I would have done this face to face but you stripped me of that gait of bravery,

I want the old me back,

please don't hold me down by denying me the opportunity to move on.

                                                                  ~B.V