The Killer Speaks to the Fish

We all tell the tale, the cliché

of the last time

we hold another.

I never got to hold you,

except when I had to

lose you.

You were a constant in my life,

to the point I couldn’t let go

of the water

that you died in.

You were small and strong once.

How was it you died large

and weak?

Would you forgive me,

your family,

for being what killed you?

You were supposed to slip into the night.

I wasn’t supposed to kill you.