I don’t know how I feel. Shocked. Sad. Pensive. Muted. Troubled. Off.
Quiet. Resigned. Guilty. Confused. Annoyed.
Can I ask you: How and why?

Rest in peace,
Sorry you’re gone.

I found out today
You’d fled, gone away.

Met you Eloise
Winter last year,

Cold outside,
your company
warmed me

Mind games,
mixed emotions.

Truth and lies,
Lows and high

You managed.
We kissed

You smelt of cigarettes.
You were a mover-
and a shaker.

I imagine you in the noose,
shaking. Smiling (TO YOURSELF).
Feeling smart. maybe crying.
Tongue out, gagging.
The feeling light, going loose.
Limp now, sagging.

We used to kick it.
Movers and a shakers.
That was your last move.
Check mate.
Your last kick.
And I’m left to shake.

I measure knowing you;
in less than a years.

The story you shared,
of only eating gummy bears for a week.

The dorky jacket.
Those un-fly moves.
How rude you were to other girls I was friends with.

I remember telling you some of my darker thoughts.
I told you I was scared.
The importance of our senses.
I tried to be supportive.
I asked questions because I cared.
Wrote you a card for your birthday.
Unique, precious, like you.
Like everyone is, because we’re all… un-alike.

We gossiped and spied.
drank coffee and wine,
Danced, talked.
“How do you feel”
You shattered my face.

We hugged,
I even introduced you to my mother.
We ate at that asian diner,
We smoked together, even thought I don’t.
You gave me a rush,
Let me be creative.

I wore a kilt.
You bought me a ticket.
We watched the TSO.

I asked about you:
I forget so much of that conversation.
My brain was folds of cold silk.

You got me a ticket to The Preachers.
They were great and I helped you write the article over disgusting licorice tea.
We played chess.
You skyped your friend in Japan.
I flicked a rubber band at the roof.

You wrote me a card,
You came off as a crazy cat lady.
I saw you at the Cygnet folk festival.

That was the last I saw you,
Before your untimely demise.
A glaze took a liking,
Took the glinting from your eyes.

While I was out hiking,
You, you were kicking out the chair.
No retreating. Turning blue.

For someone I held upon a pedestal,
For such a short time, such a short life,
Such a short time, you were a part of mine.
Now apart. Bridged gap from life to death.
Striking the match to your dyed hair.

Marge with makeup shotgun.
Rogue, mad and dark.
Misfired fun, tragedy run
Hurting, left your mark.

Now we’ve survivors sickness.
I’ll call it life-
Shall I? You witness.
Progress despite the strife.


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