If You Died Tomorrow

If you died tomorrow,
I would not be sad,
at first,
I would be angry.

I would become the selfish one,
painting you the bad guy still-life,
making my newfound pain your fault.

I would ask questions like
“how could you do this to me?”
and “Why didn’t you think of the person you’d hurt?”
before considering how long you suffered,
Or how you thought you were doing favors,
removing the glitch in this system,
erasing a mistake from our lives.
Or how depression planted seeds in your mind,
The suicidal thoughts grew forests in your head,
and all you wanted to do
was burn away the overgrowth.

I would not consider your agony,
I would be outraged
with the way you threw away all that we created
In just a few swallows,
Or swipe of a blade.

If you died tomorrow,
I would be angry
at myself.
For not being there
when you needed a virus protector,
Or a shovel to dig up the roots,
and remove the cause of this tragedy.
I would blame myself
For you no longer having a reason
to stay.

And if you were to die tomorrow,
after all this,
I would show the others the way you made me feel,
and together we would anger those we cared about.


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, now available on amazon.

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Save Me

If you can swim,
I’m just across the river,
drowning on the shore.

If you can fly,
I’m just above the clouds,
falling on the roof.

If you can write,
I’m just atop the pages,
erasing invisible ink.

If you know how to bury,
I promise I’m dying safely,
all you have to do is find me.