A Goodbye To Friend(s)--

I'm sorry that you've been
Weighed down by all the things
I've confided in you, over the years.
It must be a great burden,
That piece of my soul,
Lodged between your shoulder blades,
Pressing down with all its might as you
Walk away from everything I've known.
I can't save you.

I'm sorry that once in a while,
When I pause to listen to the rain,
Or feel the sky smile on my face,
Your face appears in my mind.
There were so many things
I wanted to tell you,
To share with you,
But there simply wasn't time.
I can't save you.

I'm sorry that I'm not the person
You sometimes pretended I could be.
I'm not strong like Cuchulain,
Or brilliant like Bergerac.
There's no Atlas left in me,
And certainly never a Venus.
Only a girl, a young girl,
Terrified of the dark,
And powerless to be made a savior.
I can't save you.

I'm sorry that I put my faith in you,
When it would have been better left untapped,
Ignored and unrecognized,
Rather than misinformed.
When you sang me those songs,
I was naive enough to believe
That every note fell from your soul,
That they weren't shots in the dark,
Attempts to shape what you thought
I wanted to hear.
I can't save you.

I'm sorry that my crime was
Loving you too deeply,
Caring too strongly,
Worrying too much,
Wishing too desperately.
Wishing that you'd remember
Those songs, those ideas, those dreams
That we whispered about under covers
With flashlights and teddy bears.
I'm sorry, perhaps the most,
That I've grown without you.
I left you, abandoned you,
Raced too quickly ahead,
And now the only glimpses I get
Are flashes of memory,
Traces of regret,
The wistful quirk of your mouth
When I glance over my shoulder
Looking at what I've left behind.
I can't save you.
And I'm sorry.
I can't.