I used to be happy.

I do not think I'm in love with you

Yet I can't help but notice the way your head falls back when you laugh

The way your brown eyes shine bright, like honey kept in the sun

The way my eyes finally find the one smile they were searching for.

I do not think I am in love with you

Yet I can't help but envy the way your hair gets to hold you

The way it's damp, light waves fall across your shoulders

The way it frames your face.

I do not think I am in love with you

Yet I can't help but drown in your thoughts, your words

The way your words made worthless plastic, a jewel adorned upon my head

The way your thoughts plague my mind, refusing to leave, stubborn, just like you.

I do not think I am in love with you

Because we are just friends

Aren't we?

the day after you almost kill yourself

is just like any other.

it’s sunny and warm.

the weather is abnormally nice for the time of year.

it makes most people want to go on a walk,

or spend time outside.

the day after you almost kill yourself,

you’ll go to school.

your friends will ask you how you are,

and you’ll tell them you’re good.

they’ll tell you about their weekends,

and you’ll smile and nod.

the day after you almost kill yourself,

you’ll have to drive across the bridge

you wanted to drive off of.

you’ll notice the concrete barrier

that would’ve stopped you anyways.

you’ll try to think of

a different bridge.

the day after you almost kill yourself,

you friend will call you to check in.

you can’t bring yourself to joke with them

as you normally would.

you’ll tell them some of the problems,

but never enough to worry them.

the day after you almost kill yourself,

you’ll be scared to be alone.

you’ll ask all your friends to hang out

late into the night,

even if you have class tomorrow.

and the overwhelming loss you feel

when you finally have to go home

will never fully go away.

the day after you almost kill yourself,

you’ll fall asleep on call.

you’ve never been able to do that before,

but now you can’t stand to be alone.

the day after you almost kill yourself

frame of memory:

home hangs

here

true shapes moved

time with its eyelids

closes

over each overspoken us over

an echo away

today is then coloured briefly

nothing like

you.

time opens another wound up

sown below the night

with me

with many pulses too

no one knows their

aim is outward

their deepart of trueness: alone

no one towards not

one more moment