She said
to stop
bringing her
flowers.
She said
she always
hated me.
I never asked
why.
I was a coward.
I did
what I was told.
Then
she found my poems
and said
to stop
writing
about her.
That I'm not
gonna change anything.
I wanted to ask
why
but instead
I stopped writing.
I was still a coward.
Today I began
to write again.
It's her birthday.
I hope
I won't be a coward
again.
I wonder
if i failed
if I gave up
too easily.
I wonder
if she would have loved me
if I was like her
if I was dying.
Junkyard Of Muses
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/for-her-again/
