I write poetry , not suicide notes.
As it seems every poem means suicide

Why am I lying ?
My words are undying . I write poetry to stop myself from that idea.
You had no idea.
People feel uncomfortable
when the topic of conversation is death.

Although I'd just like to save my breath,
from your experiences with me.
It'll all go south and sour words will spill from your mouth.
I'm sad and you'll be angry , you can't make me happy.

People get sick of me, they punch and kick with their vocabulary
"Go swallow pills again"
I know they don't mean it , I'd never fear it
The Idea of leaving.
The idea of leaving.

Shivers on skin— I walked among stars;
I walked on broken edges
I walked on broken light.

The sound of space is the mourning of a mother,
a lullaby of the past,
of all the pain it takes to become
on someone else’s demand,
and all the time it takes to disappear
by your own accord.

The night smells of burnt ash;
there are no falling wishes here,
only wicked angels.

Come, let us sleep.
It does not do to step on the dead.

I wrote your name
in the sky,
but the wind blew it away
I wrote your name
In the SAND,
But the waves washed it away
I wrote your name
in my HEART,
and forever It will stay.

Like so many
times before,
she went out
into the dark
and pulled it
around her--
its cloak of
          charcoal
              staining
        her fingers
as she
grasped its
deeply opaque
fabric of smoke
turning her
eyes into mirrors--
mirrors reflected
inside out, thoughts
and feelings
brash and quiet
in their subtle
points of weaving
until the cold
gleam of shards
of the onyx air
clung to her form
like an inky abyss,
the very reverse
reflection
of black snow
spilling and seeping
into her essence,
filling the weeping
in whispery presence
until all she could do
was curl into the
soft embrace
of obsidian,
surrender her soul
to the starless sky
and let
it in

Two
Six
Six
Two
If she read this,
She would know exactly what I mean.

Her ghost is all around me.
Her voice rings in my head.

Two.
Six.
Six.
Two.
Even though it seems our chance has passed,
I'll never forget her.

The tag hanging on my big toe
That's the only way you'll ever know my name
Turning blue along the edges
Sick sick sick
I'm sick in a way you don't understand
Only once I'm forever asleep
Will I let you hold my hand
I'm just afraid to poison you with all the pain I have inside
You don't deserve what I have
But I deserve to die
So I'll meet you in the morgue once the night is over
Red bracelets around my wrist
But my heart full of yearning wanting you closer
I'll give the coroner a special order
To give my bleeding heart to you
Forever yours
Can't breathe anymore
My last breath was saturated with the taste of you
The tag hanging on my toe
That's the only way you'll ever know
Who I am
Without you