He spoke of suicide.
Or did he? Sometimes
I just imagine words

That might have fallen
So I can believe that
maybe I would
have helped
him.

He spoke of suicide.
Did I see the bruises
On his neck? The
scarred wrists? The
sick and bloodshot
eyes wandering
or do I just
wish I had?

If I had seen the signs
In his pleading eyes
Then maybe I
could have
stopped.

Maybe I could have
stopped him.

Did I really notice his unbrushed hair?
The dried red under his fingernails?
Were they even there?
Or did I just
wish that
they
were?

No one saw it coming
I wish I could forgive him.

Tallie Pascoe

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/speaking-of-suicide/