Tonight's a night the frantic signatures
slip off the suicide notes,
white-knuckles lose their grip
and bodies kiss the pavement,
like that night he took too many pills
and, rather than cure him,
he violently shook
vomiting and seizing until
he fell silent and still.
Tonight, my chest is as tight as it was
the moment I found him lying there:
that night when our mother's sobs
were drowned out by the screeching sirens
as we stood over him in his room.
We were blinded by flashes
of red and blue strobe lights
that turned my heart
into an epileptic drummer
spasming in my chest.
Tonight, as I clutch my chest,
as mascara burns my eyes,
I remember
that tomorrow is a day he almost didn't see.
How could I forget;
no night will ever be worse
than the night I nearly lost my brother.
YOU ARE READING
Songs of My Talkative Heart
Thơ ca“Hearken! and observe how healthily – how calmly I can tell you the whole story.” --Edgar Allen Poe The Tell-Tale Heart A collection of poetry, straight from my heart, my life, my experience...my stories.
