I never wrote you that poem.
Just another broken promise
I'm fulfilling too late.
I don't write to you anymore
Either, not because you don't
Cross my mind,
But because you know the words
Before they are written.

I miss you. I miss
Our cigarette breaks that last
For hours or until we didn't have
Any left. I remember
The thunder of our feet
As we raced across the parking lot
Like kids because we could.

I remember the three a.m. phone call
Telling me there had been
An accident and that you didn't
Make it.

I may not write to you anymore.
But your memory
will never leave me.
So here it is.
The poem I promised you.
Three years too late.

But thats okay,
Because I know wherever you are..
You heard this
Before I did.