For Betty

I wish I could remember the last thing I said to her. 


Nobody told me she had been sick. 
So maybe it wouldn't have been a surprise 
to learn that sometimes 
we are more than just vines that intertwine 
while growing up the side of somebody else's storyline.
But now, I have a story to tell.
And I've probably put someone through hell
at some point in the past
but I hope it never lasted long.
And I'm humming a song
as the words are compiling
I remember the smiling
that always found a way forward in her voice.


I wish we had a choice
so that maybe I could give
another chance to live.
I wish there was a way
that I could've made her stay with my words
and when she heard
she could grab on like I was throwing a life-vest
into the waters of death.


This may cut us in two.
But that's what death will always do.
Make eyes that stare into nothing.
Trying to lose control until something
else can pull us away.
And as we lay her down, we say
You'll be greatly missed
and then we list the reason why.
But you're born, you live, and die.


And it happens all too quickly.




R.I.P.