I'm drowning in the stiff upper lip silence of the room draped in black.
Mourning, they say. Mourning for loss. Sorry, they say. Sorry this happened.
She was young, so vibrant. There was light and life and joy in her eyes. There was so much for her, they say.
But I saw the way life embraced her and left her skin greying and her breath ragged. She wasn't okay and there wasn't anything vibrant about her and when I begged her to talk to me, or not to me, but to someone, to get help, to please keep breathing, she refused me.
Why was I the only one who saw her fall to pieces?
Why didn't they help her?
why is she gone?
I don't understand.

I want to apologize for being a sad person

*Sorry if I can only write sad poems

All I really want
To do right now
Is quit social media,
Put down my phone,
Perfect my french,
Raise a dog.

I'm kind of nothing much,
Just a silly girl who admire boys as such
Those who play in bands and like
Boys who can ride the skate or bike

Though I also like to play the guitar
But guitars don't like me, just left me a scar
In my finger where a ring should stay
From the one I love when it comes the day

Some days I dream to be an astronaut
Watching the night sky everynight til I caught
A cold that always starts with a sneeze
And ends with runny nose, oh dear! Oh Geez!

I made an honest mistake so I need to add more lines
That even though I fail sometimes
I always need myself to remind
That a dream never dies

So there's my little autobiography

Leigh Herondale  *February 2015