Happy.

What is it?

It is what you made me feel.

 

Light as a butterfly,

My eyes flutter open,

Jerking me out of the realm of my dreams.

Our last conversation,

Claiming dominance over my thoughts,

The Good-bye

After a roller coaster romance,

Where the highs,

Exhilarating.

Where the lows,

Heart breaking.

 

Anger.

What is it?

It is what gave me strength early on.

 

Standing in the shower,

Allowing the blistering water to caress my skin,

Feeling nothing,

But the pain of losing you.

Left behind,

A whole body,

With a broken heart,

Now a relic,

Of a love story,

That was not meant to last.

 

 

Guilt.

What is it?

Knowing I could’ve tried harder.

 

 

 

 

School.

Is an obstacle,

With ever changing paths,

To avoid you,

If I don’t,

It opens a wound.

Ripping out the stitches,

That hold in the hurt,

Allowing the blood to flow freely,

Releasing pain so strong,

It deprives me of oxygen,

Until you have passed,

And I am able to breathe.

 

Sorrow.

What is it?

It is what my days consist of.

 

The wind whips,

The cold bites,

I walk alone.

Thinking.

Planning.

About what to do,

When I reach home.

 

Open the door.

 

Open the cabinet.

 

Open the Bottle.

 

Swallow.

 

Hit the floor.

 

 

 

 

The door opens,

With mother waltzing in,

Unaware my state in the next room,

Unmoving,

Piece of paper held in my hand,

Printed upon it,

Your good-bye,

Bittersweet depressed words,

Written as you allowed yourself to be snatched away,

By the hand of death.

 

Laying there,

I hear a voice,

A sweet, beautiful voice,

Your voice.

You are whispering in my ear,

Telling me to wake up,

To get up,

Not to join you yet,

I still have a life to live.

 

I open my eyes to see my mother,

Sitting at my bedside,

I hear being,

And feel pain.

 

The nurse calls me lucky,

A guardian angel must have been watching me,

Saved me,

Kept me in this world,

And I thank you for that.

My angel.

Now my reason to live.