Do you remember the first time you said
"I'm okay."
But I knew you didn't mean it because
I saw your eyes and though they would wander
over the tiles of the floor,
avoiding confrontation.
They were watering and I could see your
eyelashes move up and down at a rapid pace.
There was nothing more that I wanted than
to wrap my arms around you and let you
empty the pain through your tired, brown eyes.
But I didn't.
And every time I asked how you were
the same response, the same reaction.
Though, eventually those okay's would
turn into "I'm fine" and that couldn't have
been more obvious.
Because I could see that you didn't have
to look at the ground to avoid
Confrontation--
Your pale face, the markings on your wrist
Made up for it.
I recall one day, asking you the same
exact question and your eyes grazed mine
You answered with the same "I'm fine."
But I didn't have to look at how white your skin had gotten
Or the fresh marks you had made on your wrist.
I could see it in your eyes.
Because at that exact moment I knew
your heart had shattered and I didn't know what
To do.
But I could try and be there.
You soon became of skin and bones
and I remember the first night
when I stood in your bathroom
holding your brown hair
whilst you purged the foods
your mother forced you to eat
at supper
Tears flowing down your face as
you continued.
All I ever wanted to do was help
but I still kept trying to wrap my mind
over the situation
but
I couldn't.
I wish that first time
you told me
you were okay
I would have held you
and the first time
I noticed the markings on your skinny wrist
someone else would have noticed
as well
and I wish that when I saw
your fragile heart shatter to piece
I would have
told someone.
Because then maybe you wouldn't have to
find a reason to avoid my eyes
Maybe you wouldn't have found an excuse
to mark your wrist or a purpose to purge
And maybe, just maybe
you wouldn't have to
lie.
But the only place you lie is six feet
underground
with a gravestone
above
with words that could
never sum you up.
Because it's not written that you were the girl
who did not want others to worry
about her.
It's not marked that
You were the girl, I saw,
lift others up
while you teared yourself down.
It doesn't say that
You always found a way to make people
smile and laugh, no matter the situation.
You had opinions and words that could have
changed the world.
Though you were terrified to let them be
spoken or heard
I wish you could have seen those things
About yourself,
before your mother and I
saw you.
Your body engulfed in blood that had seeped
from the veins of where your forearm ended
and before the trace of your hand began.
How pills you took from the medicine cabinet
sprinkled the dark red ocean that
flooded
around your pale,
still body.
I can still hear your mother's screams and cries
of her begging you to wake up
whilst I
stood with an
inscrutable expression
trying to comprehend
what had happened.
I learned that death
was an unsettling topic for me
when the doctor's pronounced you
dead.
And I remember
I was unable
to speak for awhile.
So after some time,
somebody asked me,
how I was doing
and I simply replied,
"I'm fine."
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