She Loved Me

Christine Flemming

I wrote her a song,

but her sad smile tore it to shreds

and I couldn’t bear to sing it anymore.

I swore I would piece it together

for her one day,

unshred and unshard the notes

to put a happier smile on her face.

She told me she loved me,

and I heard the past tense

too clearly in that sad smile of hers.

She couldn’t help it, I know.

She loved me, she did,

but I never could keep that song

from falling to pieces.