An open letter to my former best friend

I was the closest to suicidal I had ever been
when I made the call.
We started out with light conversation that
steadily grew heavier,
with mentions of mental illness and
confessions of depression.
Even as I tried to lessen the tension it
tightened around my neck like a noose
and my mouth was far too loose
when I asked.

The question wasn't as much of
a question as it was a test,
but you weren't ready yet.
I was the closest to suicidal I had ever been
when I made the call
and you weren't ready yet.

I learned that day that there is a difference between
being early and being punctual.
That all things need preparation and that
being on time doesn't mean
preceding it.
'Punctual' and 'Early' can be the difference between
landing on-site and landing in the middle of the ocean.

I landed in the ocean
And drowned in your shallow response.
It would be years before you were ready,
it would be years before you became that person I
thought you were,
and it would be years before you became
someone I could trust again.
It has been years, but
You still haven’t answered my question.

I’m sorry asked you a question with a preconceived answer.
expecting you to answer correctly.
And I’m sorry I put you in that position—
but I’m not really sorry
because all I wanted was my best friend’s support
the support you gave freely over seventh grade secrets and
ninth grade nothings
you hadn’t shown that kind of compassion for years but
I thought you were hiding it inside of you
I didn’t think your voice would die on the line
sounding like the phone cord was tied
around your neck, not mine
I asked whether you would care if I died!

I was the closest to suicidal I had ever been
when I asked,
and if the absence of a ‘yes’ is a no
then that day you killed me.