Missing My Brother - Hello Poetry

Jul 2017

Infamous one

Siblings

We fight and argue
But love one another
Together in that time of need
Talk back and forth
Everything is alright
We might not talk
Nothing bur love
Separate worlds but one family
We may not agree
Family love is deeper that any foolish beef
Good time we laugh
Bad times we fight
Family united everything feels right

Jul 2017

Chrissy Cosgrove

what did you mean by flying away?

'forget about the things that weigh you down'
he said
'and fly away'
he spoke as if he was not a prisoner
as if he were not shackled to depression
stuck on hopelessness
addicted to false relief
committed to failure

blind to his brilliance
his potential
his worth
held back by a false hope
the idea that freedom can only be found in death

impulsivity
alcohol
and misery
proved to be a fatal combination
and one gunshot took away everything

gone is the intelligence
the talent and wisdom
the ease of his company
gone is the understanding smile
the homemade turkey burgers
and the smell of listerine and cigarettes
nothing to look forward to
but silent Jets games
weekends with mom
and a hole in the rest of my life
always something missing
always something that’s not quite right

gone is the comfort
the safety
everything i thought i could always rely on
and everything that could have been
what did you mean by flying away?

#suicide #addiction #pain #death #alcohol #loss #grief #alcoholism

Jul 2017

Chrissy Cosgrove

nine years

i could have done something different
i could have done something better
i could have helped you
i could have saved you
i could have taken your pain
worn it on my shoulders
and took your burdens for you
i could have wiped your tears away
poured the ***** down the drain
locked up the shotgun
and sang you to sleep
only in the morning you would still be there

i could have done something different
i could have done something better
i could have been there for you
i could have fixed what made you hurt
and made you forget about it
i could have held your hand
let you cry to me
soothed your aching heart with comforting words
and taken you away from everything
that changed you
maybe if i did
you would still be here

the same mistakes of idleness
and the same outcome
the same sharp sorrow and tortuous guilt
the same irreplaceable loss that i couldn’t stop

the same **** words that float in my head
enough times that i convince myself they’re true
i could have done something different
i could have done something better
and because i didn’t
i’m the only one left to tell myself that

#suicide #pain #abuse #loss #relationships #guilt #grief #self-hatred #self-loathing #self-blame

Jul 2017

Sam Ciel

Hero

If a frame is worth a thousand words,
And still by all accounts,
A thousand words is all it takes
To make a second count.

Except a picture doesn't move
until there's twenty four
So for every thousand words too few
I'll write a thousand more

At least that's what I'd like to say
That I have two billion words.
That's eighteen years turned into frames
To heal a world of hurt

And it's not that I'm not willing
But rather, I'm not able
So I'll use freeze frame magic
To tell this hero's fable.

To reiterate; twenty four frames per second
Creates the illusion of motion
That's twenty four thousand words per second
To recreate this fluid notion.

And illusion isn't a word I like.
It implies he isn't real.
But the movement inspired in all alike
Has a kinesthetic feel,
And acts as a concrete testament to his existence.

His grin was always worn a little bit off kilter
As if it couldn't hold all of the joy it filtered,
And was tipping into the surrounding space
A contagious smile that slowly spread across his love ones' faces.

His eyes glowed without compare, immersed in umber flame.
The questioned who you were and asked you without shame,
"How can I help?"
They burnt away the paper mache masks we so often wear,
Mantles and guises with incendiary tears
Would fall to the ground, replaced by genuine care
And glimmering hope.

His eyebrows. I could talk for hours and still not touch the length of those majestic caterpillars. And no, there's no poetry here. They're eyebrows. Just looking at them, at him, you knew he would make you laugh.

And he did. He carried a profound simplicity for his youth,
And understanding hidden unkempt and uncouth
Behind messy tufts of shaggy hair
Aloof behavior, suggesting "I don't care"
When really, that's all he did.

He walked with a loose sensibility and a tenacious
Comprehension for life that many of us still grasp at tentatively.
He loved to live.
He lived to love.

If only life were so simple as kissing the pain away.
Which brings me to what I'd like to say today.

Sometimes, actions aren't enough to take away the pain.
Sometimes words cannot will the past to live again.
Sometimes what we feel seems wrong
And what we know is wrong feels right
Sometimes we don't have the answers
And sometimes that's alright.

Our hero lived a wondrous life,
And left so much love behind
His legend isn't simply his
But his and yours and mine,

A legacy lived on through us
And countless stories told
Frozen movie frames
We'll remember 'til we're old.

Snapshot stories played on repeat
Forever in our minds
To make up for the things not done
And words we'll never find.

I'd like to close on the last few words
I spoke to my dear friend.
"I won't say goodbye for now,
but *'til we meet again."

I wanted to genuinely write a thousand words for you.
And while I was writing, I realized something.
I'd want to write a thousand more.
And a thousand more.
And a thousand more.

And I don't think that feeling will ever go away.

So instead, I'm going to trust that you'll live on in all of us.

To my dearest brother.

1998-2017.

As always, keep writing.

#love #goodbye #brother

Jul 2017

Bleurose

Perhaps

Perhaps, before I was born, I was told about you.
How you'd both come to be.

Perhaps, a deity sat me down and said - if you wish, you can bear their suffering.
And I must have said yes.

Perhaps you'll never know just how much I'd do for you, and how like my sadness, my love is endless.

This can't just be my sadness

#brothers #brother

Jul 2017

ju

Brother

What’ll happen when you die? Will I lose you again? That would mean finding you. Undoing years, unpicking frayed edges fixed with the wrong coloured yarn. I see you at funerals. At Mum’s you were angry. So was I - but I concealed it. Played numb. At Dad’s you were shaking. I thought your nerves were finally shot. Or that the little boy, naked standing in snow, washing his clothes after a petit-mal fit, was still shivering and waiting for Mum. Then I noticed you weren’t drinking. Said you’d been stitched (again) by police- who’ve always had it in for you. Like they pass this hatred down through rank and generation, onto every town you’ve ever lived in? So that explained the orange-juice-and-lemonade made tidal in your hand. I want to rewind you. You were trouble, of course - but you were nice-trouble and I loved you. I looked up to you. I didn’t see the Big-Brave-Wall you were building. Or the things that made us not-normal. When I was born you were thirteen and already broken. When I was old enough to understand Mum had gained an upper hand, and you always sided with Dad. Even though you showed signs of knowing he was the ******* that ****** us up? I didn’t get it as bad. She learned. Mistakes made on you weren’t made on me. For a start she never left me with him. I was less ******. Or maybe not. Maybe just differently-****** and quicker to heal. My first crush? The copper who called for you, countless times - while I curled m'self round m' cornflakes, burning - too scared to move or turn, rotisserie style, in front of the blue-gas flame. And somewhere in me, not so deep, that teenage ju, that one less-mended who danced-all-weekend-and-slept-where-she-landed, still boasts: Had him y’know. Another notch on a well-and-truly nibbled ‘post. I cried at Dad’s funeral, but I wasn’t crying for him. Why would I?

#love #regret #loss #hurt #family #childhood #brother

Jul 2017

Meg

Tay

You keep coming to me in a dream
This dream is bright
and the room walls are your bed room, soft and colored cream
You keep coming to me in a dream
This dream is sad
and you sat me down to explain a scheme
You keep coming to me in a dream
This dream is scary
and you're bleeding again, you scream at me
You tell me they won't ever understand
The way my brain is, the reason we fought before, is the reason no one will stand me
You keep coming to me in a dream
This dream is heartbreaking
You stand before me and ask me to join you
And I remembered when you were alive and blue
You were me when you were here
The way I feel is the way you felt before you disappeared
Maybe I should join you
My world would no longer be blue, and I'd finally be with you
You keep coming to me in a dream
This dream is the last
Even though I wanted to say yes, my mouth said no
You smiled softly
Your green eyes were in pain
You stopped coming to me in a dream
This dream is quiet
I miss you and your eyes
I should have said yes, and we would have never said goodbye

#lost #hurt #pain #suicide #ghosts #dreams

Jul 2017

Alex

Cemetery Gates

As sudden as an ocean wave, the valve in his heart gave up.
Standing at the cemetery gates I finally understood.
He is gone. He is missed.
But he is not coming back.

In the blink of an eye, he was under the truck.
Standing at the cemetery gates I finally found peace.
Peace with the truck driver and peace with myself.
Most importantly peace with God.

As the bullet hit the gun dropped from his head to the floor.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was angry.
Angry as his parents, angry at the school.
Angry with myself. But mostly angry at him.

Her car veered off the road, down the ledge and into the water but it wasn't an accident.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was lost.
I couldn't understand why this happened.
I couldn't fathom why she did this to herself.

Thanksgiving morning, metal on metal, laughter dies.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was broken.
My soul so tired, holding those around me.
One life was gone and another hung in the balance.

His father saw him drop the gun as his body fell, wanted to run and save his son.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was numb.
Numb with shock and fear and cold
During that frigid and depressing December.

You can't beat the train. He knew but didn't listen.
Standing at the cemetery gates I was empty.
So many pieces of my heart were taken during the year
I wasn't sure there was anything left.

Standing at the cemetery gates I look around at all the friends I have buried. I thought high school was supposed to be the simple time in life, but if that's the case, why did they all have to go?

RIP Mitch, RIP Ryan, RIP Christian, RIP Jenna, RIP Kyle, RIP Jack, RIP Dallas, RIP Kennedi

#rip #death #loss #suicide #accident #grief #young

Jul 2017

Camila

Part of me died too.

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.

RNGS
I never thought I would have to deal with the pain of having one of my best friends commit suicide. Life took us all through different ways, made us all live in different cities, but even with distance between us we always knew how much we loved each other. There was never in my mind any doubt that he was going to be there for me no matter what, as I would've been always there for him. Depression is a mental disease, and he was trying really hard. He used to say " I dont know why I feel sad, I have an amazing life, I got nothing to be sad about" and I cant even imagine having to deal with those kind of demons inside.

#suicide #death #depression #sad #missing #friend #tears

Jul 2017

Sofia

from an older sister

there is a certain kind of motherhood
only an older sister knows is true
to not have borne a son from womb
but to have a friend of same blood
be a son, a gift and a light too
there must be some divinity in this
to be the one he calls on when
the cupboard is kilimanjaro for this little stranger
who is on some days foe and most days love
to be the santamaria as he climbs
on your own young shoulder blades
searching for ****** shores in worn out rooms
to be stronger than the thunder
that rumbles outside his bedroom window
to be stronger than you usually are
for the little boy whose arms cling onto you for peace
even when you are as pale as the moonlight
he claims to have followed him into our home
there is some strange purpose in this
to be guardian, disciplinarian, caretaker and girl
all at once
when our mother is too drunk to hug her son
when our father says nothing but hello
there is a kind of love
only a sister knows hurts this much
when that little snip of a man grows into boyhood
just as he grew out of your arms
when you are no longer every wonder of the world
you are simply a companion
and on good days: a comrade
always a sister and mostly a friend
there is a strange pull of the heart
at the sight of boyhood in motion
to see him cry and laugh and hurt just as you once did
to bear witness to his ripe exploration of the cosmos
and you think to yourself: were you ever this young?
he looks at you with eyes that mirror your own
yes. yes you were
there is a certain kind of motherhood
only an older sister knows is true
it is the nostalgic repetition of summers that once
seemed to last forever
it is holding your brother tight
when he is brave icarus before the fall
even more so when the time for tragedy comes
and your young, young brother realizes
that he does not bleed ichor like the gods
he bleeds red very much like his sister
there is so much love in this

for my little brother

#boy #boyhood #brother #sister #siblings #love #family #sadness #nostalgia #youth #humanity #light #friendship