Self-Immolation

With the sun beating down on your porcelain skin,
Palms sweat with aching sorrow,
You remember that black absorbs heat,
As you itch in your dreadful attire.
Perspiration mixes with tears,
Self pity engulfs you like a flame.
Death is unstoppable,
Yet the possibility of stopping it lingers.
Blame eats away at your empty soul.
No blame for the faulty car brake,
No blame over the drunk driver,
The blame isn’t even bestowed upon her,
That safety strap never crossed her shoulders.
That heartbreaking shiver rose when the coroner stated,
“It would have saved her.”
The contemptible idea that you killed her is haunting.
Pleading her to come home early that night,
Because you were lonely.
Like capturing butterflies in a net,
The idea of not being the cause won’t stay imprisoned in your mind.

The wind whips and the tears fall like waterfalls,
You beg to bring her back,
But you have no one to beg to.
There’s no one to turn to,
No one who isn’t in need of the same desperate comfort words.

The sun sets as you climb to the edge of the cliff,
With a crashing gush of current below.
The view overlooks the beach,
The long land of sandy shore,
You two used to walk along the tide line barefoot.
It hurts to see such beautiful scenery,
In such tragic circumstances.
“Sorry mom”
Escapes your crimson lips in a whisper.