now that you’ve killed yourself
and the whole world knows that we were the ones who loved you and that’s why we’re crying, we become those people on the other side. we become that alien race who live in a land of darkness and finality. no one wants to touch us, not because they fear it is catching, but because they know it is not. they will not be able to feel what we feel, and they are afraid of the mystery that could bring us so quickly to tears and to our knees.
so they remain silent and flow on in quick, bright streams. and we, like dark stones, sit deaf and aching.