If the
weight of thoughts
could wear away
the resilience
of the broken bough,

I must’ve done
something terribly
wrong
to feel the way
that I do
right now.

When I look at the stars with you lying next to you
On the grass the aliens feel so far away
But when you and I turn around at the same time
And look into each other's eyes
We realize that aliens at least exist

They are on this planet itself

This is it.
The last step.
The final action.
This is all I have to do.
Before I feel the sweet release
Of death.
Freedom.
Is that what they call it?
Release.
Maybe that's it.
Letting go.
But it's so hard.
Stepping off.
There's no turning back now.
Closing my eyes.
I've made my decision.
Taking a breath.
I feel the wind rushing past me.
Heart racing.
I plummet towards the ground.
No, wait.
I can't stop this.
It's permanent.
I wish I hadn't.
They'll miss you.
I didn't say goodbye.
It's a shock as you hit the ground.
I can't feel anything.
There's blood everywhere.
I hear screaming.
Your body shouldn't be at that angle.
I can't undo this, can I?
The sirens are getting louder.
I see my mom. She's crying.
They load you onto the stretcher.
Wait, I'm still here! Mom! Can't you hear me?
Your voice is gone, and so are you.
I see a bright darkness.
Walk towards it.
It consumes me.
Time of death: 9:34 a.m.