May

I used to dream that I would bring that hope to your life

But I think I let you run dry.

I thought that one day

I could save you

But I think maybe I brought you right to hell.

Sometimes I wonder

What it would be like

If I never said a word to you

If I never even whispered.

Would you be alive?

Would you be alright?

I wonder if I buried your casket 

In a hole dug by me.
I hate to think

That you were killed by poetry.