July 25, 1998.

Slowly slipping into no one's arms

I don't do anything slowly lately

The street awaits down below, for my hurried steps that forget

sometimes, that there is a sky.... Still

Did anyone evey tell you that you were beautiful?

Did you ever believe that anyone?

did it break your heart because you couldn't

just believe

Curled up in my chair

looking up at you from my fetal position

curious about my submissive rage

yet paradoxically unwanting to bail it out and talk to it without the piece of glass between us

Scared am I of I

I am I and scared.

Of going to sleep and seeing you. Goodnight.

Magdalena Gudzowska