Today, I left my prescription pills on the bench,
Next to my tattered old thoughts.
That had frayed at the creases and the edges,
And displayed atrocious handwriting
On old and yellowed paper.
And on the end a flower,
A gerbera, my favourite,
Classic scarlet orange.
And next to that, a note to ma,
“I did it ma, no more teary nights,
No more prescription pills or hospital bills,
No more life and death fights,
No more, because I made it, -C”
And in my best friend’s leather wallet,
With a sewn masculine flower on the front,
I slipped a Turkish Delight,
And a note,
“Coffee once again on Elmer? -C”
And on my lover’s homely front mat,
I left a yellow gerbera.
His favourite and mine.
A noticeable yet subtle note to each other
That told him that I made it.
And by my brother’s grave,
Shiny and new,
I left a bundle of Australian bush flowers,
As he always wanted to visit,
I sat and watched the sun cast red across the sky.
Tears flow freely down my face.
“I did it bub, I did it,”
I say,
“I did it for me, I did it for mum,
I did it for you, I did it for my lover and
My friend,”
I say,
“But that doesn’t matter,
Because I made it.
I rewrote my will to live,
It’s neat and long and baby blue,
And it stays in my breast pocket,
Warm and folded, yet always seen.”