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"It's complicated," she said, speaking of life.
"Isn't it always?" was my simple reply
I wished I could stop it. To turn it around.
I wished I could save her before she met the ground.
"Damn life," she cursed, a mutter under her breath.
I was worried, and afraid, it was the last she had left.
I tried to console her, tell her I was here.
But my absence, I'm afraid, was the least of her fears.
She asked for my advice, so I lent her several words
But a few, if any, were all that she heard
Her thoughts were whirling and buzzing inside of her head
Crazy and reckless in the words she said
I promised she could come to me, anytime at all
But I knew, though I wish I didn't, she would never call.
Days passed. Not a word.
Then a call. It was her number. But it wasn't her.
Her mother, choked up, tear-stricken and numb
Inviting me to her funeral, this weekend to come.