An Ode to the Soul

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The roses have wilted, the violets are dead,

the sugar bowl's empty,  your wrists are stained red.

I feel like I'm dying, my thoughts are no longer clear,

I don't feel like trying, now that you're not here.

The storm keeps on blowing, there's no end in sight,

I watch you laying there frozen, so far from the light.

This feeling's unreal, I can't see the sun,

but time can't be turned, your actions undone.

The words that you wrote that only I read,

"I love you so much; please don't cry when I'm dead."

The bond that we formed, our love that flowed deep,

all the pain that we shared; you were a friend I could keep.

I wanted to fix you, to wipe the tears from your eyes,

been there the moment you wanted to say goodbye.

I want to forget but most times I don't,

I want to let go, but I know that I won't.

There are tears on my face, your voice burned in my head,

the roses have wilted, the violets are dead.

*Hey, an actual poem. Adapted from the original poem "The Roses Have Wilted, the Violets are Dead." I suggest looking up the original version of this poem for your own interpretation; the above is my own personal take on the aftermath of suicide.