When I met you I could see you,
Hear you, smell you, softly feel you --
I had no feeling of myself.
So I held on, couldn't release you
Bore inside you, would become you --
More important than myself.
When I hurt you, confused you, used you
I hurt and lost myself.
So I left you by yourself.
Now I circle, coldly coasting,
travel quickly, twisting, searching,
Collecting pieces of myself.
I hope someday I won't need you:
Only want you -- have something for you --
My feeling, knowing, loving self.
P I D
December, 1974