OBSESSIVE

once,

you stopped speaking to me
the very next day.

but while i was obsessed
with the thought of you,
i didn't mind april's sinking silence
as i drove her down rocky
roads, tortured terraces and menacing
man-made structures, oblivious to
the obvious.

home sweet home?

not for april;
this girl of enigma.

once i let her out of the car
my brother let me borrow when i
got home with april on my arm,
i should have known. now when i
look back it was blatant to see.

her mind was a turmoil of sunken
sirens, unseen tragic shipwrecks, dragging
her down into a bottomless dungeon.

but even though i could have seen
it coming if i cared enough to
let go of you from my mind,

it was still a tremendous shock
when cuts scarred her corpse,
the blood loss too much.

and april was dead.

by self-inflictions.

by suicide.

her written last words on her crumpled, chilling suicide note were:

love is destruction. obsession is murder.
together is the concoction for death.

april and i, we could have been friends.

we had so much more in common
then our sad crossing of paths, skye.