Your suicide was quiet.
You left a short note
And named no names,
So I was told;
I never brought myself
To read it.

You'd let the embers of
Yourself turn to ash.
You buried so many things
Deep down that dug their way back up
Through your insecurities
And doubts and fears and hate
And one day you had enough.

He found you on his bed.
He called me third,
After the paramedics and your parents.
Your funeral was
Supposed to be a celebration
Of the life you lived.
Your father keeps your dog.
Your mother keeps everything else
In her garage and finds a new excuse
Every day to keep it in there.
I keep that flower you forgot,
Upside down in the socket of the lamp
My grandfather built from
Ashtrays and doorknobs.

Your suicide was quiet;
Mine will not be.
I will not go peacefully,
I will not go unnoticed,
I will not go unexpectedly,
I will not go quietly.

I will shake the sky
With my death.
I will crumble buildings
With my last breath.
I will show fear to the gods
That you convinced me weren't there
With your quiet suicide.