I got promoted in my job,
and I got scared like I usually do,
but I took it anyway because I like the challenge
so I had to.
I called to tell you,
like I always do,
because I need to tell you how I'm breaking inside,
because I need you to tell me how good I will be.
You told me I would succeed,
like I always do,
because you believe in me,
because you'll be there,
like you always are.
Yesterday I heard you telling your dad,
and then I heard you telling your sister-in-law,
and your brother, and your cousin, and your friends.
I heard you say you were so proud,
I heard you say I was invincible,
and I truly felt like a superhero,
I felt you as my shield,
and you didn't say you love me,
like you never do,
but this time you didn't have to.

This is how it all ends,
before it even began,
the I love you's are a thing from the past,
and distance between us now feels real.

Long phone calls,
pictures back and forth,
texts with kisses and hearts.
they didn't hold us long.

and I cant find the right words to finish this poem,
just like I couldn't to finish with you.

It's been two months since he died,
I don't think about him everyday,
he comes back in flashes and I can almost hear him laugh,
and it gets hard to hold the tears but I do anyway,
I stop, close my eyes, take a deep breath and continue with my life.

It's not just missing him that hurts,
I think what keeps me sane is that the last thing I told him was
"'Congratulations! I'm so proud of you and I love you, see you in July"
But what makes me mad is that right now is July, and that promise fell through.
There's this logic part of me that knows it was not my fault,
that reminds me he was sick,
that he was trying his best, that he was taking his pills,
until one day he took them all.
There's this other part that keeps wondering what if?
What if I had called him randomly?
What if instead of July it had been May?
What if I had asked again how he was doing?
And what hurts the most I think, is that I'm a doctor, just like he was; I deal with life and death and pain, and I couldn't cure the pain he was feeling inside.
And I don't know if he knows that he took a part of all of us,
that killing himself killed us too.
But even when I hold back the tears because he is gone, I cant hold back the smile because he was part of my life,
and I guess that would've made him happy.

I'm exhausted.
I'm physically and emotionally drained.
I find myself looking to nowhere, thinking of nothing, empty
and I still don't know where all these tears are coming from.
I'm not mad, I don't feel rage, I don't feel anything,
nothing but this sharp pain in my chest that comes and goes,
and the sudden knot in my throat as the smallest thing reminds me of you.
But no, I'm not mad at you. Stop asking me that.

I miss writting
letting words flow.
I miss the rush of catching all the ideas when my hand was too slow.
I miss the need of putting on paper what I felt,
of having to stop everything before I could forget.
I miss feeling inspired by the smallest thing,
a song, a phrase, your voice, your hair.
We took different ways
and you took away my words
but I kept all the love.

I've seen it all.
All his fears, all his sins.
I've seen him grow,
I've seen him fall.
Laugh, and cry and crawl.
I've seen him all,
I've known him all.
I've loved him all.
I still do.