She sat in a 1950s diner in
the booth across from mine
She effortlessly fit like one of the boys
Frantically composing setlists
incessantly late for soundcheck
Guitar strings frayed and blood-stained
She, ignited by the illusion of playing out her dreams

In flashback is how I only think of her

Before rehab would have derailed the tour
Instead, it became an anthem for the broken
Before scrutiny quietly seized her autonomy
her distinct silhouette, a shadow of itself

How carelessly fate reveals its hand
A missed chance to hold her face in my palms
and whisper, Go, run, before the demons come
There’s a conspiracy of vultures circling
But I just smiled; her eyes drifted past mine

She never said goodbye with words
With each song, her heart unspools
the longing, the love, the unspoken wins
Sharp Camden grit endures bright and fierce
Her spirit, a tiny penny rolling inside
a tunnel towards the light