They greeted me with a smile
as if they knew nothing of what I was hiding.
As if I hadn't lost control on the cliffs that night,
and had done the unthinkable.
They walked me to the wooden casket,
where he lay asleep next to the roses, falling one petal at a time.
Where he stayed for the long ceremony
so that we could remember the times when he was alive.
They told me to share my eulogy
because we had grown up together.
Because they knew that I had loved him
more than anyone else in the world.
They told me to stay strong, as I shook in fear,
not knowing how to act.
Not knowing what to say to my only friend
when his resting body was there because of me.
They suggested that I help bury his body
to help me move on from the pain.
To help me forget about the amount of blood
spilled over the rocks like wine that day.
Every shovelful of dirt brought tears to my eyes,
forcing me to blame it on the hurt deep inside.
Forcing me to tell everyone that I was fine
and that I would eventually heal.
They hugged me after the funeral in their black ensembles,
telling me how happy they were to know me.
Telling me that no matter what happened next,
I would always be like family.
Then, they asked me if I knew who could have done this,
and I lied to their faces.
And I lied about the fact that I knew exactly
who had done such an unthinkable act.
6.6.2021
YOU ARE READING
pieces of me: poems
PoetryTo the girl twenty-four hours ago, crying into her pillow and questioning what comes next, you'll be okay. "pieces of me" is a collection of thoughts that make up who I am, inspired by either fictional or real emotions and experiences. Through poetr...
