I've written my suicide note too many times
On the inside of my lips,
Wishing against hope for the rain that pours from iron clouds to
Rinse me away.
I read it, my tongue tracing it's own scars against the warm whisper
Of rose-pink crinkled lines in my mouth
Give up, it murmurs
You've done so much,
Give up
Sleep quietly in the deep waters that are already
Lapping over your eyelashes.
I tear my notes to shreds with the hard, sharp lines of new letters
Rewriting my past and present in the hopes of forcing some peace into my future,
So here is my note
A poem to soothe your inevitable tears.
My thoughts swirl like dark water ****** down a drain,
But thoughts are only wisps of cloud,
Not solid guarantees or promises,
Like the ones I break without you ever knowing.
I need a guarantee, a promise of oblivion, bringing myself to
Be washed down to drain with my thoughts.
I wanted to write a poem to tell you how I
Would die,
To share with anyone the last moments of flickering electricity
In a brain worn out with life
Even though I've hardly lived.
I wanted to write this poem to tell you how much I would leave behind,
How much I would miss the feeling of spring rain on my eyelashes
And hot tea in my throat in October
And your hand on my shoulder when I cried.
I wanted to write you this poem,
But I can't find the words to describe
What a souls looks like
When I open the cage of my lips,
Baring my collections of old, written over notes for the last time.
I wanted to write you this poem,
But I haven't found the words yet
To tell you what death feels like.