On Monday, she told me she was leaving,
moving away, too far to follow,
too foreign to visit.
She told me it was a personal choice,
something that would make her happy,
and when I expressed sadness,
she said it wasn’t about me.
I tried to be supportive, “That’s good,”
“You’ll love it there,”
“Maybe I can visit you someday.”
She said, “you won’t, but sure,”
I said, “I promise I will,”
knowing I wont,
and it went on and on.
We might have been something special,
we might have found love,
but now it’s all a mystery,
because we won’t have the chance.