and it's not graceful.
people talk of the light fading from their eyes,
of the life draining, but that's not really what happened.
she was alive. she was dying. she was dead.
there is nothing else.
and she's just white dresses in white wind now,
posters about "suicide hotlines",
even though she hated those damn things
and would scowl at them when we took the subway together
but i can't feel the weight of her arms
around my shoulders anymore
and i don't know where the rise and fall of her chest went.
i hate to say it, but she wasn't alive even before she died.
so i don't know.
it's just that suicide
isn't anything but what it promises to be.