The Poetical Poems And Short Stories

After your suicide

After your suicide, the household was quiet.
But quiet doesn't always mean peace.
The night after your suicide, I fell in love with your mother, and the way she held a picture of you in diapers sobbing,
"I wasn't good enough for her."
I fell in love with the way she felt her pain might give you peace.
The night after your suicide, I watched your father, who was as impenetrable as steel, break down on the floor, tears streaming down his face.
The next morning, your school locker is filled with flowers and cards.
And tears and hurt, because you never knew how many people cared, or wanted to.
You realized that morning, that the silent, rude boy was simply shy. You realized that with your death, people were pushed off of their own cliffs.
People wondered, "if she couldn't do life, how could I? "
That day, you realized that so many people loved you.
Most were simply too afraid to show it.
That evening, I took your dog for a walk.
His ears would perk at every yellow bus he saw, wondering which one would bring you home. I watched as excitement turned to hope, and hope to fear, to depression to defeat.
Even he soon realized your yellow bus was long gone.
The evening after your suicide, we watched the sun set, leaving a metallic golden blush over the earth. You couldn't help but regret your actions.
The evening after your suicide, you longed to feel the chill in the wind, and the comfort of solitude. You longed to comfort your sobbing mother and father, who wanted nothing more than to follow in your footsteps.
The night after your suicide, we went to the morgue.
I watched as you tried to talk sense into the pale body you once owned, tried to remind her of all the little perks in life.
I watched how she never responded.
The morning after, we went to your funeral. You screamed and sobbed, along with the guests, and asked yourself,
"Who would want this?" 
Because it was then that you realized that suicide was a poetic form of deceit. You wished You weren't so gullable.
You cried out in horror as the earth covered you, clod by clod.
And the lights went black.
And it was finished.