TW: Suicide

I'm 90% sure she's gone,
and that last 10% clings,
burning in my chest like a brand,
racing through my mind like a storm.

An earthquake rattles my hands,
my stomach flipping, sinking,
legs restless, pacing circles
for a friend I can’t reach.

I dial her number, pray for a ring,
listen to silence, to nothing at all.
Every unanswered call cracks my heart,
each silence a shadow that won't let me breathe.

I tell myself she’s there, she’s okay,
that she’ll answer, that I’m wrong,
that she’s not another goodbye
leaving me only with her ghost.

I hold tight to that last shred of hope,
but it slips, frayed, between my fingers.