they said he thought he could fly

said he jumped like it was routine

three floors down in his dressing gown

landed on the bins like a scene

out of skins

but it weren’t funny

it weren’t pretty

just blood and bisto and someone’s takeout curry

his mum rang me, voice like gravel

said “he’s in, love — bring something he liked”

so i brought a phone charger

and that old burnt CD

with our first 8-bar on it

he laughed, but not like before

no snort at the end

just breath like a bus trying to stop

jay used to freestyle in the queue at greggs

bars about pigeons, schoolgirls, debt

now he just taps his knee in threes

and says “i’m not broken, just bending, please”

i believe him

even if the balcony’s still got his outline

i asked what they give him

he said “nothing that rhymes”

told me the pills make the colours behave

but not the sound

said “the walls don’t talk anymore — that’s good, right?”

i said “depends what they said”

he smiled, but it didn’t touch the rest of him

we used to skip maths, rap in the back stairwell

pretend we were grime’s second coming

his bars were gospel

mine were filler

but he made me sound good by association

i still know his verses

even if he don’t

they call it a crisis

but he calls it tuesday

asks for biscuits, doesn’t eat them

tells the nurses they look like exes

i said “mate, you’re still in there”

he said “barely — but cheers”

he told me he never wanted to die

just wanted someone to notice the falling

not the flight

said “being fine’s not the same as not jumping”

and i wrote that down

in case he forgets again

jay used to write punchlines in biro on rizla

now he just hums one note at lunch

but i sit with him

and pass the salt

'cause sometimes love’s just showing up

even when the track don’t drop