The Morning After

The morning after I killed myself,

I woke up.

I made myself breakfast, cereal and a glass of juice.

I washed my dishes and dried them.

The morning after I killed myself,

I fell in love.

Not with the boy down the street

Not with the boy at school I was dying to meet

Not with the boy who always made me smile.

I fell in love with my mother

The way she sat on the floor of my room

I fell in love with my father,

who had went down to the nearest lake

put my note in a bottle and watched it float away.

I watched my little foster sister,

who used to believe in unicorns,

who now sat at her desk desperately holding onto the idea

The idea I was coming back.

The morning after I killed myself,

I went to the park

sat at the bench in the far left corner

by the houses separated by a flimsy fence

where I had spent so much time crying over things that weren’t worth it.

Looking under the bench where I carved my initials

and he put his initials right next to mine.

We swore we’d be forever.

But forever is proven to be so short nowadays.  

I looked over the fences  

into the window where I see an elderly women

reading the newspaper about my death.

I see her husband bring her daily medicine to her.

Taking care of her

The morning after I killed myself,

I watched the sun come up.

I looked around at all the beauty I had missed

because I was so absorbed in the ugliness of people.

In the brokenness of my heart.

The feeling that I couldn’t heal the pain,

love and hate, it all just felt the same.

I know what it’s like to feel alone.

I know what it’s like to need a home.

I know what it’s like to want a love you can call your own.

I know what it’s like to lose a person you love,

I know what it’s like to lose yourself to the drugs.

There were so many times I said I was gonna change

just to turn around and do the same.

Same shit that was putting me in pain.

I know I’m the only one to blame,

sometimes I get so drunk, till I can’t see.

Trying to be someone I can’t be.

I don’t even wanna feel

cause the love was so fake but the pain was so real.

The morning after I killed myself,

I realized all that I was leaving behind.

I was so focused on what life was lacking

instead of what it was packing.

That morning I went back to the body of the girl in the morgue,

I tried to talk some sense into her.  

I told her about the sunrise and her mother and the pictures...

The morning after I killed myself,

I tried to unkill myself.

But I couldn’t finish what I started.