Yellow Petals

Sometimes, those left alive,

they are bound.

Sharing an odd sense of relief

and slowly, together,

wading through their grief.


And others, the others,

they are torn apart

Become possessive of their pain

a pain so big, they cannot share,

because they think it is so unique,

it is theirs and only theirs.


And then there are the ones who

Make it their mission

to forget.


So I take the pills prescribed

Take the pills that are, somehow,

meant to replace the people

who are still alive,

but no longer exist.

The medicine you take

when the compassion leaves

along with the funeral car.


So I take the pills to dull the feeling

that someone who was once there

can no longer look me in the eye;

Fearing the sight of their grief

staring back at them,

the pain they’re trying so

hard to deny


They’re too scared

and too tired of trying to be fine.

I know and they know

that a longer glance could mean

being lost in that dark mine.


So I take the pills

and listen to the doctors

And wait for those that lived,

for them to come back to me,

one day.


The petals and the ashes fell,

long ago,

But I am still here,

I am fighting.

And I refuse to fall too.


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