Time Is A Fleeting Bitch
Was it my fault that you didn't tell me I was spending too much time away?
Was it my fault I couldn't read your mind?
Maybe I'm the fool.
I could have asked, Could have listened.
But we drifted apart! How was I to know how little time you had left?
It wasn't my fault, it wasn't,
Oh, God!
It wasn't, It was not.
And now you're not.
I know it was.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
Comments are closed for this poem.