Sometimes I wonder if
I would have showed up
if I would have tried a bit harder
to be there
to respond more
that you may still be sitting
on that bench
writing to me.

"it happens to everyone," I wrote.
you were hurt
you wanted me but
I was half a world away.
I was no help to anyone
myself included.
"you'll get over it and life will go on,"
I wrote.  "just think of me and maybe
one day
I'll be able to come out and see you
or you could make it
out here."

then, I'm not too sure
but now, now I know
it was all a lie.

it was your sister who told me
about you.
it had been almost three weeks
since your last letter.
the next one I got wasn't from you
but about you:
how you jumped from the old stone bridge
the one you wrote your letters to me from.
the one I told you we'd sit by
when I came to visit

I never came to visit and now
I have no reason to.
perhaps you're here with me
maybe you finally made it out
to see me
and this was your way
of making it.

maybe you're here now
and that's why I'm thinking of you...