It's sickening.
To never realize someone is sick
And when the pain eats them whole
You take one look and call it suicide.
The smile on his face became brittle and his jaw locked
The more people asked him if he was okay,
The more he doubted.
The more he worried,
The easier it became to lie about how he felt.
If you held his hands, they would be the perfect temperature.
He learned to tune himself so perfect,
No one could tell he was running on fumes.
The car made no noise, the lights never came on,
So I couldn't tell anything had gone wrong.
Perhaps if we'd caught on it wouldn't have led to the edge.
There wasn't a curator amongst all who knew him.
No expert who understood the smallest details between the truth and the faked.
You say he didn't even try.
You say he was selfish.
You mourn for your loss,
and it leaves you wondering what he spirited himself away from.
What hurt so deeply and so secretly
It felt wrong to tell it to a single soul.
But the silence is a contagious symptom.
The way each person chooses to fill the emptiness with something of their own.
The way no one cares to wonder, is this really how he feels?
The rotting trees, hallowed out, but still standing regal
Until the day someone presses against it too hard and the whole foundation falls.
The medicine can only numb the pain.
The therapist is there for him until the time and insurance run out.
The anger and the impatience only make the silence longer.
You wanted him to tell you so you could cross him off your problem list.
You wanted him to confess because his choices reflect you as his loved one.
But I will tell him for you.
If it hurts, it's okay to feel it.
Do not go to court if they are judging you.
Walk out of the class in which they lecture you.
You do not need to change.
If it becomes difficult to keep living with yourself
I want you to drown only that part of you.
Lock it in the silence and let it echo into nothingness.