They say it was pneumonia
but it seemed more like
a month-long suicide
and none of us knew.
Depression, the great thief,
entered your heart and mind.
It stole your will to live
and kept stealing until
it took your life.
You let yourself die.
You were convinced that
you had no one to turn to,
that you had to face
everything alone
But if you had seen all those eyes,
swollen from shedding tears,
the shudders on the shoulders
of those who wept,
the shaking hands as they laid
flowers down for you
You would have known you were wrong.
Oh, if you only knew
just how much you were loved.
YOU ARE READING
Absences
PoetryThis is a collection of poems about losing people. They were written sporadically in the past few years. I welcome any feedback you may have.
