Your letters seem like form letters,
I sometimes get in the mail.
I try not to let it bother me,
But my feelings are quite frail.

No salutation,
No how do you do.
No real ending,
Or what is happening with you?

So much that has happened
All now forever in the past.
I tried again to write to you,
But how much longer can it last.

I try to keep my letters upbeat,
Doing my best to not complain.
I talk about other things,
The leaves, the wind, the rain.

Did it really mean that much?
Or was I just unaware?
I tried my best to be a friend,
But you do not seem to care.

I felt we had a bond,
I shared with you my pain.
Then when I had to ask a favor,
Right away I felt the strain.

I had broken one of your rules,
Which I did not even know.
Something important came up,
And you would not let go.

So now the bond is broken,
I know I must move on.
The pain is real, it hurts so much,
For the death of a friendship
That is now gone.

© Brenda Sparkman
October 2003