That I could not have convinced you of this,
But these dark times are just like those dark times.
Yes, my sad acquaintance, each dark time is
Indistinguishable from the other dark times.
Yesterday is as relentless as tomorrow.
There is no relief to be found in this,
But, please, “Yours is not the worst of sorrows.”
Chekhov wrote that. He meant it as comfort
And I mean it as comfort, too, but why
Should you believe us? You didn’t believe us.
You killed yourself because your last dark time
Was the worst, I guess, of many dark times.
None of my verse could have saved your life.
You were a stranger. You were dark and brief.
And I am humbled by the size of your grief.
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