deepundergroundpoetry.com
Should've Would've Could've Didn't
I sat beside her bed, its white sheets starched and smooth. Her small, brittle hand lay above the covers, nails long and un-cut, skin stretched and frail. A small band of skin around one of her fingers was slightly lighter than the rest, showing the mark the ring had left.
I sat beside her bed, the sheer cleanliness around me a reminder of where we were. The hospital was empty... the lights left on, the silence unbroken. My watch beeped, somewhere in the back of my mind. 2.00am.
What did he do to you? How could you come to this? We were best friends, back in primary school... you and me, we were inseparable. I remember... you took on Tom Fray, when he teased me about my new shoes. You said 'You'd better lay off, you big buffoon, or you'll pride you will lose.' Laughing, playing, crying. From pink, to blue, to black. Princesses and tomboys, emo's, goths and boys.
How could it come to this?
How could you, the popular, outgoing girl, end up to be his muse? To succumb to every beck and call, to every cut and bruise?
He broke your spirit, he broke my friend. This death is pained and slow. I should've been there, should've known, as you did, those years ago.
But now it's over.
And here I sit, beside her bed, wishing I had been there. Wishing, hoping, but now there's nothing I can do. I went home and sat by the fire, a mug of coffee in my hand. It's murky liquid sloshed around the cup, luke- warm in my fingers. Her shallow breaths whistled in my ears still, the cried she would have cried, her screams, loud and shrill.
Why.
By morning it was done, I took the call early. The nurse said There was nothing that could have been done. I still felt guilty.
Because I should have been there for her, I should have held her hand. I should have known what to be done. But more than that, I should have been there, when that bastard pulled the gun. I should have been there from the beginning, when those many years ago,
She told me she's be married, those many years ago.
But I wasn't.
Her breathing, it ceased that night, at 5.65am. Her pain, it ebbed away. And as another light faded, the world moved on and on. No-one really faltered, no one really cared. She was gone.
I sat beside her bed, the sheer cleanliness around me a reminder of where we were. The hospital was empty... the lights left on, the silence unbroken. My watch beeped, somewhere in the back of my mind. 2.00am.
What did he do to you? How could you come to this? We were best friends, back in primary school... you and me, we were inseparable. I remember... you took on Tom Fray, when he teased me about my new shoes. You said 'You'd better lay off, you big buffoon, or you'll pride you will lose.' Laughing, playing, crying. From pink, to blue, to black. Princesses and tomboys, emo's, goths and boys.
How could it come to this?
How could you, the popular, outgoing girl, end up to be his muse? To succumb to every beck and call, to every cut and bruise?
He broke your spirit, he broke my friend. This death is pained and slow. I should've been there, should've known, as you did, those years ago.
But now it's over.
And here I sit, beside her bed, wishing I had been there. Wishing, hoping, but now there's nothing I can do. I went home and sat by the fire, a mug of coffee in my hand. It's murky liquid sloshed around the cup, luke- warm in my fingers. Her shallow breaths whistled in my ears still, the cried she would have cried, her screams, loud and shrill.
Why.
By morning it was done, I took the call early. The nurse said There was nothing that could have been done. I still felt guilty.
Because I should have been there for her, I should have held her hand. I should have known what to be done. But more than that, I should have been there, when that bastard pulled the gun. I should have been there from the beginning, when those many years ago,
She told me she's be married, those many years ago.
But I wasn't.
Her breathing, it ceased that night, at 5.65am. Her pain, it ebbed away. And as another light faded, the world moved on and on. No-one really faltered, no one really cared. She was gone.
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