Last spring I wrote of fireflies and smoky dust beneath the rugs,

Last spring she started to self medicate with arbitrary drugs.

Once we were friends, and warrior sisters- united in our fight,

October now, and autumn’s come, and I’ve forgotten how to write.

This is the way we count our breaths

one.ok.two.ok.three.not ok.four.i’m ok.five.never was ok.six.please be ok.seven.ok.eight.will never be ok.nine

This is the way we die.

Through summer song and winter’s wrath-

I’ll never question why.

A graceful dive off that graceful bridge, far flung embrace to ocean

here’s all the ways we break ourselves in beautiful slow motion.

I’m sorry for the ways we failed- but know that I have paid,

A hole inside my window now, for the night gales to invade.

I’m sorry for how deep it cut her- the knife of shame and creed.

But know- we too are skin and soul, and know, we also bleed.

And when she jumped, this hallowed girl, with halo of blonde hair,

I was in school, scribbling notes, but since then- I’m always there.

A sad still song within the wind, I howl to the silver sea,

Still, no girl or ghost or water spirit- no one answers me.

When she jumped- I see her now- simply wrung all out and tired-

She fell and fell and fell and fell and fell and fell and fell and fell and-

I do not know of many things, the secret ways of how we’re wired,

And still. I know-

I was tired too, but I was always heavier, always lacked her grace,

And so she went, and so I stayed, in this odd and time torn place.

 

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