"I miss your love"
she said.

I used to write you poetry.
Last Christmas I made you a journal;
You loved that.

"Things are different. It's a really strange change, isn't it?"
I replied.

"Yeah they are different, you don't love me anymore."
"I miss your cuddles. And your laughter. "
"But mostly your love."

Your three texts remain unopened.
They've been haunting my phone screen
For the past hour now.
And that's how the unsaid things remain unsaid.

Sitting with my thoughts this night.
Not sure of my future
which seems to not exist.

Taking my time now to check the edge.
Shiny and smooth with the sharpness
of a surgeon's scalpel.

Leaving nothing to chance tonight,
I've locked all the doors and windows tight.
Disconnected the phone, even stopped the mail.

They say a hot bath will do the trick,
feeling no pain as the blade comes down.
Skillfully across my wrist, from the outside in.

Slowly now, but deep enough
I failed before, but not this time
Success is mine, I wait no more, the time is now.

Feeling better now, very relaxed,
drifting into a very dark sleep,
as I say goodnight, but really goodbye.

I face my fear of the morning,
Because that's when you say goodbye.