For A Friend
I spoke of your journey,
On
that fatal day.
Of how you left this life,
With
no final say.
How far did you travel,
When
you were out of your mind?
It’s been a decade,
And no clue can I find.
You walked into the forest,
And laid on the land.
Nothing but the void,
No
note in your hand.
You left in a blizzard,
On
St. Valentine’s Day.
Razors in your pockets,
For
your life’s final play.
And was it soothing,
The
cold on your skin?
Was it relieving,
The
torment you were in?
Was your last vision,
a
blanket white?
Or was it the tunnel,
that
ends with the light?
- Lisa M. Bello
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