You told me you had died.
I wasn't there to lick your wounds,
to soothe the pain,
to hold you when you cried.
You made it sound ok,
like these things happen every day,
that the colour wasn’t black but grey
that you were sailing forth and not
wrecked, in pieces scattered on the rocks.
You told me when you would arrive,
And I wasn’t there to meet you
to hold you in my arms and
say how sorry I am that you died.
You told me you had died.
And I wasn’t there,
to lighten the load for you to bear.
You told me you had died.
I didn’t make it clear.
I am sorry,
I care.
