Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Worse troubles at sea,
The old sailor said.
Jake understood this.
Took note of it down
In his little black book.
His sister hanged herself,
Told none the reason,
Left no last letter,
Thought death was better.
Jake found her body,
The bulging blue eyes,
The protruding tongue,
Limp hands at her side.
People cut her down
Untied the tight loose,
Laid her on the bed.
Jake studied her face,
Took in her last stare,
Captured the scarred neck.
His sister’s letters
Tied with pink ribbon
Spoke nothing of death.
They spoke of a love,
A passionate throb,
A world set apart,
A cool betrayal,
A young broken heart.
Worse troubles in love,
Jake told the sailor,
A different kind of sea,
Rough waves of passion,
Betraying hard rocks,
Holes in a love ship,
Nothing but to sink,
Swim or hang to die.

finding someone that has committed suicide must be a dreadful everlasting experience.....a woman I used to work with, not only found her ex boyfriend hanging, but he had pinned a note on his chest blaming her.....that's pretty fucking heavy stuff......whew.....your poem touches on many sensitive issues

that is heavy. Sometimes a poems reaches and touches a reality. Thank you, Saw.