My Deepest Poetry

I Am Not Suicide

I am not suicide.
Right now there is whole in my chest much like the whole in the tree we use to stick sticks inside of as a kid.

To be inside of that whole would be lonely, only an echo of the voices that use to be would remain. A hollowed and echoed silence. A deep love is what I had and its complex how 'have' goes to 'had' now all I have is an empty bottle fallowed by the next empty bottle day after that.

And I wake...
My first aware breath of the morning and you. For a moment it's like I had forgotten what it feels like to hold the empty side of the bed, or to mourn so hard you feel dead, I had forgotten for a one moment I am unloved.
I am fine as mind runs its self weary but as soon as that uncensored moment arrive I stop. My heart is reluctant to beat and my mind cant get on board with thinking 'I am not suicide'

To understand that I am in pain would be blasphemy to you. Because you cant face your damage. I am a perfect picture of your damage. What someone so kind can do when lying. Its nights I wonder where you are, because nights is when I'm alone and in my heart sick of the thought of you but my mind runs to you anyways.

And I am healing no thanks to your silence but her words and time heals your gashes in my chest and lungs. As I struggle to take in air, I hope what isnt fair to you, but in this game is fair what is needed?

I'm am not suicide though I almost was a tragic story and now I'm just a tragic person telling a story.