The first time I saw her face,
I only saw this:
her smile was perfect,
her silk blouse, immaculate.

The mental picture I hold
is slowly fading,
yet my fascination for her
is something I'm not willing to forget.

Just let me tell you
how much I needed to protect
her velvety secret ways,
while breathing in her essence,
observing the icon,
outdoing the woman.

Oh, she gave me a sense of
status, sophistication, success,
although I later learned
her life was a mess,
but who cared, then?

As I sit here smoking,
before I get on with my precious life,
don't spoil my pleasure;
I just want to imagine her
as she walked elegantly
while light danced on her skin.

What else should I tell you?
I have nothing to confess.
I am not her brother, her father,
where were they
and why didn't they help?

Nothing happened, really,
you see, she was fragile,
couldn't stand
acidic water,
high levels of copper,
had a weak liver or kidneys.

What do I know, I'm not her doctor!

Oh, but she was beautiful
and she left with her mystery.
It's how I will remember her:
a smooth shining lake.

Let us forget
that she lost her good looks,
became irritated, irritating;
she wasn't healthy, really,
small wonder she's gone.