The Melodies of Death
i drove past your street today,
my stomach flipping knowing that you were down there
and that i was looking your way.
all i could think about was how you're probably
sitting on your lawn, spread out along the dampened earth;
as happy as can be.
i wanted to hate you for it-
for making them everything that i could never be.
how can it be fair for somebody to be so happy
while making somebody else so sad?
i hit my head hard enough that night
to forget both your name
and how my own had sounded.
i hit and hit until all of the voices around me slowly tranformed
from patient lullabies,
to anxious whispers,
and ending with harmonious buzzing.
i can't help but imagine that this is what death sounds like.
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This, like many of my poems, is something I wrote a year or two ago while I was struggling with many different things. This particular poem was written about a friendship I had- the friend helped me through my depression and helped me reinvent a purpose to stay alive. The friend had lived very, very close to me so they made sure that I was always alright at my lowest moments, even if it meant running down the street to hold a sobbing friend. The friendship broke apart, and months later I wrote about the nostalgia.