April project: Day 2: Black tears

I could have done this, could have been the one to save him. But now he’s gone. Forever. And I’m sure it’s my fault. A bird comes and lands on the edge of your grave and I can’t move to get it off. It’s red, a cardinal, with black streaks next to it’s beak. Black tears. Like black tears. This would've made you happy, that thought. Because I wanted to be that way with you, tell you all those silly thoughts I’ve had. And I never did, because you were just the girl at the desk next to me, someone who looked kind of like me, but we never talked that much. If only now I could tell you, say “Can we get some food, hang out, go see a movie?” But I never did. I could tell you might have been able to understand me. I wish, I do. That I had just said something, but I know that you were a wonderful person with no friends. Your mother didn’t get along with you, your father’s grave next to where you lie now. Your brother was abusive and no one loved you much. I knew all this but didn’t do anything. I didn’t try be your friend. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry.

“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” This drug overdose is probably my fault. It is. You could have understood me, but more importantly, I could have been there for you. How I could I be so scared to not talk to you? I don’t understand. I stand, smoothing out my black dress. “I wore black when no one else did. I stayed after the funeral, and no one else did. I did this for you, but too late. All too late.” I take a deep breath and set the rose on the ground where you lay. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. If only you were here to forgive me.” I sit down next to this stone grave, the piece of you I could never see. “You were beautiful. You know that, right? You were good that your job, too. I never payed enough attention to you. I should have. I’m sorry. I didn’t even properly pronounce your name.” I breathe in the tears laying in my throat, trying not to let them out, not to let them see. Not that anyone’s here to see. “I’m sorry.” I say again. “If only I could say it enough times to wake you up again.” I set a hand on my rose, finally giving up and letting the tears out, down and everywhere. I take a deep breath, “Hey, there’s a new movie coming out tonight. You wanna go see it?” I’m sobbing. “And then maybe--” I break off, unable to sit up. I put my face in my hands and my hands in my lp and just sit there. Crying. Because no one else would.

Writing prompt:

And here's a picture I found that I think goes. (From Pinterest. Again.)