I am the girl you grew up with;
The one you call your best friend.
I am the one who had to stay up
listening to your endless rants
varying from the burn you got, to
the second glance your crush gave you.
I am the one who always complained
about your annoying habit to over share.
How was I supposed to face that
call your parents gave me yesterday,
asking me to tell them the reason
behind your decision to take your life?
I couldn't find my voice, nor words,
to tell them I had no idea, no clue,
that you were gone; forever.
Your note, it read, "I need peace,"
and everyone began to decipher it
the way they wanted, because that is
how vague you always were with everyone.
But me? You had never let me assume.
You always had had answers for me,
for every one of my queries; unasked.
And now, you left me with an unanswered
question, which shall never be answered.

I had read many times before,
that suicide is such an ugly word
but, thanks to you, now I know
how ugly it actually feels, too.

©Shwetha Bhat