For What It's Worth

It hardly seemed worth it in the end.
Two minutes after I had started,
my excuses dried up.
In the arid soil of your stare,
any shoots that might have grown to bind us in another time, withered
and died.
And after that, your parting was inevitable.

Watering the land with my tears couldn't help.
The ground was too dry, you see.
Real grass couldn't grow here, between our cracked lives.