27/365, 8/30 If Joe Fell

Each time we painted that wall, Joe

I made it an adventure, 

woke you gleefully.

It wasn't so much the act

as the tempting thrill of the unknown.

You hated it.

I never knew why you endured

those early morning pounces.

I should have seen it,

should have heard the waver in your voice

when we dreamed together,

opened ourselves to the hope

that our school could happen

that our futures were entwined

in ways we'd never imagined.

I watched you pine for Jane

was so happy she let you in

at first.

In the end it hurt me

as much as you.

We spent so long in each other's space

we didn't know what home was

til we'd almost lost it.

You were so good at "friend"

that I missed jealousy when you breathed it,

kept your chin up

as I dated another artist,

reminded you of our pact, 

confronted you with failure,

a destiny you'd long since abandoned as myth

brought it closer to home.

When I found your painting

I knew I could save you,

knew you would follow me

without much convincing.

I've dreamed since that day

of catching you on that bridge, 

letting you kiss me breathless, 

declaring our love to the skyline.

If only sound had carried further.

If the city noise had just died down.

I was almost there.

I called to out to you from the shoreline

Why couldn't you hear me?

I saw you when you jumped, Joe.

I saw you fall.