Consequences. - "I'm busy, can't you go alone?"

tw death, dead dude, guilt

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You fell,

tripped on a rock, they said,

just at the exact wrong angle,

and the wind blew just the right way

to push you over the edge.

If only I'd chosen to come - but I did not

and this is the consequence:

raiding my drawers for black clothes.

If only I had known

that my simple decision carried so much weight.

If only I had known the consequences would spread

like the ripples you made when you hit the water -

concrete to you, due to height -

The water gathers in height, exploding over the rocks, each drop reflecting

your floating, haunting, regretful body...

The body made up of eyes I once looked into, hands I once held...

No one was there to hear your final scream.

I retreat in fear of my own grief,

only to find that it is permanent inside me.

This is a consequence, clear in tens of the people that knew you,

It hurts so much to use past tense to speak of you, but this too is as a result

of loving you, then losing you,

of the words, "I'm busy,

can't you go alone?"

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