Sweatshirt

Those few weeks before

I knew something was wrong

From the music he was listening to

To his dearly departed smile

 

That day he didn't show up again

Why

He'd been there

Before

 

That night

The world froze

I couldn't see him

But I could feel

 

His heartbeat

His pulse

His life

Slowing to an almost nonexistent pace

 

Forefinger on the trigger

BANG

Falling backwards

Spiraling into his dark abyss

 

Then he was gone

Another day

 

Then another

 

Day after day

Week after week

 

Whispers of where he had gone echoed through the halls

Arizona

Suspension

But somehow I knew

 

He must have tried

To bring an end

Must have been shut in the psych ward

Isolated in his little white room

 

Weeks later

I saw him again

He confirmed my worst fears

Cemented in the nightmares

 

But what was he worried about

Not that he tried

Not that he failed

No

 

His worry was his sweatshirt

"They cut it off me"

"I loved that sweatshirt"

Forget the hunting rifle that caused it

 

But what could I do

Besides cry

Besides quiver

Besides clutch him for dear life

 

For the life he tried to take from himself

This poem is about: 
My family

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