I stand on the brink of a chasm,
I peer over the edge and see only darkness.
I hesitate - just a moment too long.
I lose my chance, at saving her.
She walks down the stairs, the creeks follow her footsteps.
I resist the urge to leave my bed,
I wish I hadn't, wish I'd followed my instincts.
I hear the sound of the door; open, then closed.
I place my feet on the floor, descend the stairs to the kitchen.
A quick drink of water, that's all I need.
No reason to worry, she'll be fine.
Later that day, she lays on the couch,
She is sick and weak, and I know not why.
A week later she dies, it was suicide.
I could have prevented it, had I only followed my instincts.