death of a star

Take him and cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face of heaven so fine

That all the world will be in love with night

And pay no worship to the garish sun.

– William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

 

a video holds onto the trace of a person even after

they are long gone from this world.

 

have you ever felt so cold inside

a chill that won’t thaw out

no matter how many layers you put on?

bereavement’s a nicer way to say grief

i can’t get her image out of my head

bleeding out on the pavement

mouth red with unheard words

 

kill is such a harsh word.

 

in those last moments, what ran

through her mind? did her life flash by her eyes?

what did she regret and what would she do over

i guess it’s the idea of growing up with someone

who seems so untouchable, so happy, so pure

and discovering that tragedy really does strike

indiscriminately, no escape.

 

suicide is a harsher word.

 

he told others that it was okay to cry,

okay to let go of the sigh held in their throats

because he knew how much it hurt

to push a smile on his tear-stricken face.

he knew how the loneliness could burrow deep –

deep enough that he could wrap it in sweet

melodies, hiding the nothing at the core.

 

i wish he could see all these roses.

 

his music settled like recognition

in your bones – the name to an emotion

you couldn’t put your finger on,

the lyrics familiar and new all at once.

his personality was a breath of relief

that could brighten your day in a single

inhale, sunflower gold.

 

a song holds the experiences of a person even after

they are long gone from the world.

 

i am missing you even now,

and sometimes the tears fall unbidden.

but your voice still echoes in my ears

and your starlight still twinkles

like a promise, reaching out

from beyond the void to clasp

my frozen hands.

 

you did well.

thank you for everything.

it’s warm, at last.

 

– Monica