How I’ve dealt with my friend’s suicide

I still search for you in every bird that passes by; looking for a wannabe angel, a soul with a little mercy. I wish I could turn back in time when mountains were mounds and hills with premature growth. When you and I had never met, when your hair was long and your hands strong. and the backpack that you never wore found itself unable to shake off the dust that piled on it with the continuous pressure of education, the inevitability and hatred of love and the social constraint of a blue sky.

I still search for quick smiles and glares, I still search for you in that empty chair.

What I lived through with you is what we call a short-lived drama, a constant lust for death hidden at the tip of every stands, is that why you cut them off? You covered up the truth about your sadness through frozen glares and heavy dyes. You suffocated the hum of truth, kept us oblivious; you became the magician who made her problems disappear by stuffing them down a hat.

There is a construction site in front of my house, and from there shines a light. I have given it the luxury of representing, my lost love, my lost kin and now you. It shines red but reminds me of green. Its all I have to think about at night. Maroon sign in the foamy sea. Through thin sun and thick rain. Sunshine made you giddy, thunderstorm rendered you afraid. Fade crimson, stay Jade.

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