and he wept,
for he remembered it vividly,
he had held his chin up with his left hand,
while he knelt,
he had casually placed the knife upon his tender throat and slid it to the side exposing crimson,
while he wept for the crime he was committing,
for the death of a close friend.
He did not expect him to come again another day,
with a white scarred throat,
embrace him and call him brother,
and tell him that he was missed.
So he wept without control,
with gasps in between and a silent trauma for only now he could become whole