The Darkness

By Isabella Deol

The ringing of the phone repeats like a broken record in my head.
A constant reminder that this is real and that you are dead.
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You lie six feet beneath me now surrounded by dirt,
deliberately dressed in your favourite dress shirt.

You wore that dress shirt on that dreadful night,
It’s now tainted with darkness and does not look quite right.

I don’t think you’d appreciate the sight.

My life, much like that dress shirt, is now tainted;
filled with a darkness I’ve not yet been acquainted

This darkness quells any and all chances of reprieve
and instead, fills me with feelings of guilt meant to deceive.

I know it wasn’t my doing,
but I ask myself why I could not see your plan brewing

I know it wasn’t my fault,
but I tell myself I could have convinced you to halt.

I don’t know if what It whispers to me is true,
But all I think about now are ways I could have aided you.

Maybe if I’d really shared with you,
just how much I really cared for you;

The call wouldn’t have come through,
and I could have had another day to say I love you

I love you so
I can only hope that somehow you know