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Note

I wish he’d left me a note,

A little one would have sufficed.
It’s 4 am
There are hardly any stars visible.
And i wish he’d shown me
The crazy, bamboozling circus
That went on in his head.
I wish he’d let me in on his territory,
A little into his zone.
Whimsical, he seemed to be,
Turned out diametrically opposite.
But i could never discover
The madness of blood in his veins.
He was all I had
And a closure would’ve help me breathe.
Just one reason!
One hint would’ve been a lot.
Better than the maddening cyclone in my gut.
Why?
Why in this god’s beautiful world
would someone shoot themselves
in the head,
on a pleasant Sunday morning?
We went out the previous night.
They called us best friends.
We called ourselves lovers.
hallucinating.
passing away.

Poems

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