Regarding Epilogues

i found you
in your writing today,
and i realized
that it was time
i wrote for you
the Epilogue we’ve had.

(it seems strange
that we should have
an Epilogue
when three years
of poetic sisterhood
did not require form
much less a prologue.
perhaps “eulogy”
should flow from my fingers,
but even some words
are too painful for this poet’s tears.)

i remember
when nothing but a room
separated our hands
our words.
i go back there sometimes;
bring boys through the maze
of nostalgia,
test their ability
to see what I saw in high school,
sisterhood,
and you.
and i remember how
we wrote so frantically;
never poems
but love letters to each other
hidden beneath gossip
and goddesses.
we never spoke in tongues
but rather in technology.
we were never formal
even then;
no folded notes passed between class,
just whispers written
on white sheets.

we killed a tree a day
with our friendship.

you said it would never be goodbye
between us,
but when i walk by
that broken monument
and remember our conversations
going nowhere like the stairs,
i can feel our words
slipping away
and soon it will be nothing between us.
because words were all we had
you and i.
even when they
hurt like my addiction.

we have no more words between us,
and still i find yours
slipping through pages
of Calliopes disciples
and i see now
that i was wrong in my words.
my poems tear like nostalgia
never to be found again.

I write them just for you.