Knowing her days were numbered, however
sending text texts instead of love letters.
Feeling like alcohol is burning inside me
just so her smiling face,
spot in the picture,
could say, “I love you too.”
Fell to his knees in the therapist’s office,
looking up to heaven, defying God,
“No, you’re lying, you’re lying!”
though I know He was not.
I long to bury myself in it.
My cries are deaf in my ears because
she was the first to bury herself.
She felt the noose around her neck
but I close my eyes as she unravels.
She cries when I say her name in the past tense.
Through tears I wonder if it will hurt
spent next to her.
I became a victim of my own body
lie in a puddle of your own sweat.
It only takes a few hours
to make me hate myself,
but I stay that way for weeks.
Knowing that she is no longer a body, much less a life.
She is nothing but ashes
under the frozen ground.
May the memory of her bring me warmth and intimacy.
Say goodbye and promise
“I also won’t die young.”
Contact Asha Ramachandran at firstname.lastname@example.org.