Unlocking the door and there you see a figure not meant for your innocent eyes,
drowned in a pool of blood disguised, arms cut so deeply by scars.






I'm sorry that this is the way you were greeted with goodbye;





pale broken lips and
stone-cold eyes.




I'm sorry that when you lifted up the lifeless hand braided in scars,
you saw the bracelet bought only six weeks before as a birthday gift.




That painted silver-red token of your love now only paraded in the deep, dark grief on the arm that you once touched, warm.
Unsevered
Unburned
Unhurt.





I'm sorry that if it had been another way it would've been body parts, scattered, concrete ground.





Head half-bashed in and hardly recognisable.





Or body lying on a bed, not half asleep, resting, by a pile of sick near the mouth you once kissed.




While the pills do their bidding.
Unleashing in poison into veins, sure enough to grasp her before you reach the hospital.




I'm sorry that I reached for the knife rather than the phone to call you,
and when matchsticks burned I rather consider their flame than your words.




I'm sorry that in life I was no more living than in death.




That I chose to shake hands with darkness, rather than enveloping in your hug.


And in my distress chose to remain silent



Giving you no more than a whisper when you asked how I was, or shook my head, glanced away and disappeared.


No knowledge of the demons lurking in my breath.


And how I breathed sharply in sleep, my face salty, wet, from shards of my despair
crying 'I cannot take this anymore' and never letting you hear.







I'm sorry that girl
you'd grown to love died long before her longest friend.



Left someone cast in shadows; ghosts, monsters under the bed she never left.


Sorry that the deepest regret was not spending more time.
And that my alibi:
I'm tired,
I'm sick,
Im busy,


Was all you knew.



Sorry through your words, sorry through your lies to try and aid me, "you'll be alright".



I had only come to know; Emptiness. Sorrow. Pain. Forgetting you could feel it too.


But I felt it in suffocation, drowning, burning. Inches too deep, thick, lungs, heartache, pain.
Panic-
Restrain, break, restrain, break-
Panic again.

Sorry I could not save me.


Sorry that you tried.



Sorry you will never know exactly when I died.








But I am not sorry
That I'm living now.