I don’t post poems up here a lot, mainly because I think it’s pretentious as f**k and absolute #Notions and all that. But this one is different. It kinda captures some of the atmosphere that comes with someone dying by suicide. At least it resonates with how it makes me feel anyway. I wrote this back in February. Let me know what you think!
The ironic healing power of
Many melancholic hearts,
Picking up the pieces
As the world begins to fall apart.
Collective grief teasing out
The burden of this new reality.
The weeks that follow
Bring with them a bleak new clarity.
From here, there’s a painful gap
In each new memory.
Slowly, time moves on,
But the gaps indicate where you shoulda been.
Throats often throb from pangs of guilt
And chests tighten from anxious reflection.
You were here and now you’re not.
We are here. No answers; many questions.