Burden

Talking casually before the blur,
Her on one line,
Me on the other,
She interrupts my blabbing.

She whispers hoarsely,
“I’m gonna do it!”
Into the phone, though a bit breathy,
Seeming afraid to be heard.

I ask her what it is, if I’m guessing right,
That she is going to apparently do,
Only to drop the phone in fright,
Eye wide in foreboding.

I scream in the phone, a bit darer
Over and over again,
Not getting an answer,
Until I hear a thud.

Crashing, and actless
Of what I assume is her body,
Limp and lifeless,
Bleeding to death.

Eyes watering,
I stumble to the ground,
Horrified that she wasn’t lying,
She slit her wrists to bleed to death.

I guess I never understood her signs in dismay,
Never paying attention,
Trying to wave away,
The symbols of her depression.