She was all alone
I was not with her
She was with me
We walked and did not talk
It was evening
Then morning

I reached out to her and she was gone
When they found her, she was two days dead
Just another John Doe in the morgue
They wouldn’t let me see her
I never got to say goodbye

I wasn’t angry
It wasn’t about me

It took me days to find the grave stone
Lying there quiet and anonymous with that name
The name she hated and left behind
Now she lay under it

When I am alone I wonder
Looking at the sky makes me want to fly away
I could be next
You could, too

About quenyar

Just another bozo on this bus.
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