At Least Afloat

IF I woke feeling like a dead woman

And like I had needed to tell my past –

It wasn’t you that couldn’t summon

Enough to make this summer last:

Oh, it was me, who didn’t try,

And it was me, who didn’t want,

And it was me, who couldn’t cry

For something that won’t cease to haunt –

I can’t rewrite, but can I be reborn,

And giving my last rites, cease thus to mourn?

By Bella