Too Late Poem by Sarah matthews

Sitting there by the phone, wondering
when he will call. Will it be today? Will
it be tomarrow? Never knowing how
badly she needs you, not being able to see
you. What she didn't know was
that you needed her too.
Waiting for your sorry,
you took it to lightly that by the
next day you would be.
You call, you freak and run to her side,
to be her knight that you thought as it not to be
to late. Well she lies there with her note:
'With my clean slate, God why was he too late? '
Weeks go by and then they find that one guy,
sitting there waiting to die. As I open the door,
I see what he wore. He wore the same thing as you,
Bloody clothes, and a note: ' God with her clean slate, why didn't i just ask her out on a date? Why did i have to be to late? '