Why Did You Come Back

Now that I know you will never ask me. Or you. Or you.

I've come back to die.

I've come back to watch everyone else die.

I've come back because we all have to die and I want to watch to make sure you're gone.

I've no idea.

Why not just ask me to stay?

Because I had to.

Because home is the place where when you have to go there, they have to take you in.

Because it's just a visit. . . . .

Because I loved. . . . . 

The devil made me do it.

I had run out of running.  

Why not ask why you never left. . . . .

Because four is sometimes equal to two plus two. . . .

Because I still don't have the good sense you never thought I had.

Why did I ever leave. . . .

To cultivate apathy. . . . 

Just to leave again and pick afresh the wound of our parting. . . . .

Because I could.