Suicide that killed the perfect night

It was the perfect night, the snow was falling down -
We sat cuddled beneath the blankets in front of the fire.
You looked into my eyes and smiled and I looked at you,
Everything was going the way I had planned –
Until the phone began to ring, it was the call I feared…
It was the suicide that killed the perfect night.

Looking at you, the memories began to fade.
You weren’t with me at all. You were hanging in an apartment just down the hall.
Was the pain really that bad? Were you really that sad?

Three weeks before, I stood there at your door.
Knocking, banging, kicking, screaming –
I just wanted to get your attention but you paid me none.
You gave me the cold shoulder like I had done something wrong,
I had no idea what it could have been and you wouldn’t say.
Now I cry, remembering that I didn’t do everything I could to make you stay.

“Please, be seated sir.” The officer said to me,
“In her hand she held this. Written on it is your name and number.”
Out stretched hand, paper handed to me. Unfolding it quickly,
I began to read. It was your apology, your admitting your undying love for me.
It was your suicide, your selfish one way ride –

Clenching my eyes shut, I tried to fight it. I couldn’t fight the urge.
Tears began to swell up and make their way down my face,
Dripping from my chin they fell and splashed down before my feet.
Now, I only have one wish… Baby, I only have one wish…
I wish you were here, hanging next to me.