Why Thou

the best often die by their own hand 
just to get away, 
and those left behind
can never quite understand 
why anybody
would ever want to 
get away 
from 
them.

I want to talk
about what happened
without mentioning
how much it hurt.
There has to be a way.
To care for the wounds
without reopening them.
To name the pain
without inviting it back
into me.

I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever. Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.

I have days when I just don’t feel like myself. I reach inside, and I’m just not there. And it scares me, each time, that I wont come back. What’s left of me doesn’t want to live my life. And if I don’t come back, I feel like I wont have a future.

Deep inside, she knew who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often even funny, but somehow her personality always got lost somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the wrong thing or, more often, nothing at all.