I woke up knowing I needed to call you

I am walking in a church,

dressed in black.

Mom is sobbing, dad is solemn.

We walk down the aisle,

and are greeted by your

open casket.

Arms crossed, and eyes closed:

At least you look peaceful.

Something about releasing you

is making me feel melancholy.

I get up to speak.

Tears in my eyes,

I call out your name, and say,

“Anyone that knows my brother, knows how hard this really is.”

To love someone, you despise-

that’s unconditional love.

I feel guilty thinking

I can finally get some sleep at night,

knowing you’re safe now.

I think of the nights I waited for you,

to come home, fucked up,

and singing,

as you run up the stairs.

I am thinking out loud.

I tell the audience, I am sorry.

The ending of you wasn’t very pretty.

It was morbid, theatrical,

romantic almost.

To find you surrounded by the things

you loved most.

Face down, drawings straddled across the bed,

and the needles.

I wonder if it was worth it.

Look at all these people crying for you.

Isn’t it sad you felt so unloved?