It is a Permanent Solution for a Temporary Situation

Natasha was my friend
When I was thirteen.

She accepted my errors
and Her faults were simply not seen.

We exchanged thoughts, secrets, and emotions.
She told me once, "I want to die,"

I looked at her,
"Me too," was my reply.

You see, we were tied the most
By this one thing.

We casually discussed it as if were my frustrations
Or her latest romantic fling.

I loved her so much
With a special seeming care.

She said she loved me too,
Though I didn't know that her love had the strength of a hair.

It has been more than a year since I have talked to Natasha.
No she did not die, she moved on.

She lost her need to die and realized,
She needed me gone.

I do not judge her harshly,
Nor do I try to get her back through persuasion.

Because when she told me she needed to die,
I should have replied, "It is a permanent solution for a temporary situation."