"Like a house of cards, 
one blow from caving in..." 
I sing heavily alone in our house, 
carrying the weight of our dead 
friendship in my voice, 
hopelessly waiting for a familiar hug, 
a touch of warmth to lighten 
the evergrowing darkness in my mind. 

I can still feel the love in our captured memories,
hear the leaves rustle with a deafening reminder
of the time I forgot how to speak, 
sharply breathing in the stench of panic
as the remains of my half eaten dinner 
crept up my dry throat. 

Your voice brought me back 
to the times we laughed silly in my room, 
unharmed by the agonizing cut from 
life's long blade of time. 

I pass around the crushing burden of blame 
to keep my bridge from collapsing in,
"but maybe," a small voice chillingly whispers, 
"just maybe, the blame is yours to claim."