messy wisdom

I am not sorry for killing myself.

You may think I didn’t deserve this,
and truthfully, you may be right
I didn’t deserve a life of treading water,
so I softly sank to the ocean floor instead

Or maybe I did deserve it.
Did I not earn every bruise?
How do you keep yourself from singing along
to a melody consistently sung for you?

If I am not tainted,
remember me now that I am gone
In every Noah Kahan song
and strong Philly accent
In every eyeroll at an inane joke
and “we should start a podcast”
In every moment when it’s too loud
and entirely too quiet

I snuck away on Halloween,
in the company of monsters concealed in shadows
and skeletons camouflaged among the living
I was once the haunted house,
but now I am just
home.