Go to sleep,
knowing
you did enough—
enough to deserve
the cold side of the pillow,
after all the muddy waters
trying to drown you.
Go to sleep,
knowing your name
is in that special someone’s mind.
Someone’s thinking about you.
—
Go to sleep,
because that text
from your mother
saying “Good morning!”
is too special
not to wake up to.
She waits for your reply too—
fearing,
hoping
it isn’t the last.
Don’t make her feel that pain—
the fear of realizing
you aren’t here anymore.
Don’t let her hear that phone ring
with the news
you were found—
lifeless.
Her world will crumble,
’cause really,
you were what kept it together.
Now,
you’re what left her paralyzed—
unable to speak,
unable to feel.
Trembling
when someone says your name.
She’ll second-guess every tear
as she replays
the last time she saw you.
Was that soft smile
you always gave—
just a lie?
She wears your favorite perfume,
but never tells anyone
it was yours.
“She should’ve called more,
visited more,
asked more questions...”
is all she can think,
as she picks out the flowers
for your funeral.
Even chooses your favorite song
for the ceremony
honoring your name—
but she can’t bear
to hear it anymore.
—
The extra plates,
the empty chairs
at your mom’s house
feel a little heavier.
But she still sets the table for you,
as if you were coming
for dinner.
—
Go to sleep.
You said you’d hang out,
grab coffee
with your best friend.
Go on that date
you set up
with the girl
you’ve crushed on since high school.
Hold her hand.
Eat chocolate-covered strawberries
under the night sky.
“It’s not time to go yet”
echoes in your mind.
—
You found purpose in her eyes—
the slight smiles,
the quiet giggles
that made the void
feel less like a trap.
Her words wrap around you,
asking you to stay.
—
Go to sleep.
There’s your favorite dessert
still in the fridge.
Your favorite band
plays in your city tomorrow.
Your mom got you tickets.
You always wanted to see them—
even as a kid.
Are you really going to let him—
that little, happy child
you once were—
fade away?
Do it for him.
—
Are you really gonna let go—
let go of his hand again?
Just like when he was small—
won’t you be there
for him anymore?
Will you let him cry,
alone—
on the days
he needed you?
—
To remind him:
“You don’t need to cry anymore.”
So if nothing else,
sleep for the little child
inside of you.
If nothing else,
build something
he can call a home—
a life
he always imagined.
—
You’re the only one
he ever trusted.
Don’t let go.
Stay with him.
Maybe you’ll see him
in your dreams,
showing you
what lies ahead.
You owe him tomorrow.
For anyone who needs to read this. 💕
You OWE yourself tomorrow.