Broken Wrists

She told me that I need to let her go.
She said that I don't need to be okay with this, but I can't stop her.
I thought she was the worst friend in the world.
How could I go on living if she'd stopped?
My life became meaningless at that point.
I figured if she decided to die, I wouldn't keep on living.
She wanted to slit her wrist.
There are tally marks on her arm like bandages that really know how to stick and here I am crying asking her to quit, but she refuses because it isn't her time to quit.
My face is wet and I have no way to get to her.
I try to call the cops, but then I couldn't remember where she lived.
I tried so hard to remember, but that was a dead end so I tried to find her mother instead.
I searched high and low on social media only to realize she was nowhere to be found.
Why hadn't I asked for her phone number?
I looked up and wondered if this was a test from God. Days went by and I hadn't heard a word; the world was silent.
I prayed to God every night.
She texted me; I was so angry with her, what had she been up to?
She tells me about it.
About how she took a bunch of pills and split her wrist but couldn't draw blood.
At that moment I knew it wasn't her time.
The universe knew that if she died, I wouldn't be able to live.

This poem is about: 
My family


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