It’s about the tears staining your cheeks
and the pills on your tongue.
It’s about crying in the dead of the night
and the drugs you force in your veins.
It’s about weakness when nobody’s looking
and the blade poised on your wrist.
It’s about breaking down when everyone’s unaware
and your shaky grip on the noose.
It’s about wanting to just disappear
and your finger on the trigger.
It’s about wanting to let go, be entirely free
and your feet planted on the ledge.
It’s about you against your demons
and a tired heart that ceased to beat.

You know what’s sad?

It’s when all we have left
are blurred memories
of a happiness too long ago.

darling,
you are the story
i will never tell
to my future kids

you are the words that
will bleed like rain on
diary pages

you are the empty
cups of coffee I’ll
fill my cluttered desk

you are the ashes
of yet another
wretched pack of menthols

you are forever
and will always be
my empty, painful
secret; love me, please?