This is me letting you go. Float away. Beyond the misty shoreline. Beyond the fading sunset. Finally, you have exited the dizzying tunnels in my mind. No longer will I compare you to an out of reach rose. The petals have died. In spite of my open palms. In spite of the relative calm. Finally, we are free. To flee. To return the masquerade. Looking for the art in bullfighting. We are wrist-deep in blood.