The Girl

He didn't text her in the morning like he always does,
She was high off their love, and even felt a buzz.

They built their relationship with bricks of trust,
And seeing each other daily was definitely a must.

She knew from the absent text that something was wrong,
But she tried to think positive and told herself to be strong.

She frequently tried to reach him but there was no response,
So she went to his house, not caring if she was a nuance.

His mother answered the door and listened to the girl's concerns,
She figured he was sleeping and thought by now the girl would have learned.

Her son was an active boy and also a heavy sleeper,
She knew the girl brought him joy, and was definitely a keeper.

She sent the girl up on her way to his isolated room,
And walking up the stairs, she could  detect the gloom.

She flung the door open not knowing what to expect,
And it's hard to describe the pain she felt next.

The boy she loved dearly had took his own life,
Down went the dreams of becoming his first wife.

On the nightstand lied one last message in the form of letter,
Maybe some closure would make the dreary situation better.

It said he loved her more than could be measured,
But he could no longer handle the stress or the pressure.

He said he was scared and needed his own space,
He wanted the relationship in a much slower pace.

He went on to write that he'd rather die then tell her it to her face,
That put a hole in her heart, that nobody ever seemed to replace.