death of a star
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.
– William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
a video holds onto the trace of a person even after
they are long gone from this world.
have you ever felt so cold inside
a chill that won’t thaw out
no matter how many layers you put on?
bereavement’s a nicer way to say grief
i can’t get her image out of my head
bleeding out on the pavement
mouth red with unheard words
kill is such a harsh word.
in those last moments, what ran
through her mind? did her life flash by her eyes?
what did she regret and what would she do over
i guess it’s the idea of growing up with someone
who seems so untouchable, so happy, so pure
and discovering that tragedy really does strike
indiscriminately, no escape.
suicide is a harsher word.
he told others that it was okay to cry,
okay to let go of the sigh held in their throats
because he knew how much it hurt
to push a smile on his tear-stricken face.
he knew how the loneliness could burrow deep –
deep enough that he could wrap it in sweet
melodies, hiding the nothing at the core.
i wish he could see all these roses.
his music settled like recognition
in your bones – the name to an emotion
you couldn’t put your finger on,
the lyrics familiar and new all at once.
his personality was a breath of relief
that could brighten your day in a single
inhale, sunflower gold.
a song holds the experiences of a person even after
they are long gone from the world.
i am missing you even now,
and sometimes the tears fall unbidden.
but your voice still echoes in my ears
and your starlight still twinkles
like a promise, reaching out
from beyond the void to clasp
my frozen hands.
you did well.
thank you for everything.
it’s warm, at last.