The man too afraid to hurt me the man who chose to run thought he saved me. We were dancing under the chandeliers before we lost anything in the fire burning red. There was beauty in his evasiveness the way a cold breath disappears into thin air on a still winter morning. There was art in his eyes when they refused to meet mine they hid his colors. There's still life in the pictures from the day I first met him I knew I had less time left to save myself from falling but the ground beneath us was already cracking. The man too afraid to hurt me doesn't know my feet have been bleeding through the miles I have been walking after him. The man who chose to run doesn't know my years have passed in the smoke he left me in...he still thinks that he saved me.