"I Love You," He Said

He didn't know her anymore.

A completely different person,

it was like she hadn't yet recovered

from a bad trip on acid.

He didn't know what to say.

He wanted to fix everything,

but he didn't know what was broken.

He wanted to say, "I love you,

it'll be all right,"

but empty, broken promises would be of use to no one.

Least of all to her.

So he said little, almost nothing

and just sat there beside her.

"I love you," he said,

"I'm here, I'll listen."

But she didn't speak, didn't tell him

what was wrong.

Instead, she said, "I love you too,

always, forever. You know that,

right? And no matter what happens, you'll always be my friend."

The reassurances only scared him more.

"You won't understand,

I can't tell you yet," she said,

and his desire to hold her

and kiss her, and love her only grew.

But still, he felt helpless to help her

and he knew that if anything happened

he'd blame only himself for not seeing what he should have seen.

"I love you," he said,

and it wasn't enough.

She drifted away, through the ether.

He extended his hand,

but felt only wisps of memories

as they slipped through his fingers.