Suicide Pact Poem by Cloe C

We said in the mental hospital
If we were ever going to be successful in suicide
We'd succeed together
Of course it was in some twisted taunting terror to prevent it
But March 17th 2018 one of us was left behind
One of us left a note
and one of us left to keep writing notes
Until one day the urge to write a poem became stronger
Than the urge to write a note
I had woken up March 17th to a call from your mother's voice
Shriek, shrill, skin shivering screams and sobs
I was calming myself and your miserable mother
When the last lotus petal fell onto the dry desert floor
Holding a body, blood covered, blue and boiling with a bomb
She had sat holding you're hushed head until paramedics came
Dead at the cite
Dead to our hearts
How do you continue living when everything around you is dying
I've needed to grab life by the throat
Lift it in the air above my face, stare life down in the eyes
And tell life if you don't make it worth something I'll end it all!
I couldn't get out of bed to go to school
I cried into my cereal and over my spilt milk
I walked into class with suicide scribed in my smile
Everyone reached their hands out reading brail signs of suicide
I stood up straight, I stretched my legs looked in the mirror
Puffy eyes, pattering heart, protruding ribs, problematic reality
Finding inspiration flattened out and crushed to dust in my palm
To continue making steps to surviving your suicide
Seeming surprisingly impossible to do the everyday basics
Like eating, drinking, showering, cleaning, sleeping
I stayed awake replaying the cassette of your voice in my head
Over and over and over again until my ears bled and rung
Because I did have the chance to tell you
I was the last one to hear your voice as calm as a cinereous crescent moon
The trail your voice took me on made me hike into a meadow of mellow
I didn't think I needed to be listening for snakes slithering for our socks
You didn't even seen depressed, dismayed or distressed
But maybe we were all just distracted by the display
For our worlds cracked like picture frames crooked on the wall
Our boat sinking without the sail fastening it tightly together