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Writing Suicide Notes In Gel Pen

Clothes have outgrown me many times over,

but this sadness never does.

One size.

fits all.

There should have been an obituary for cancer,  not you.

Wishing these slits within my skin could have been

replaced by a reality check from you, “You chose to exist.”

 

My name causes a sigh to escape from lips,

that do not feel like they belong to me,

the girl,

whose words always had to be special.

 

The schematics of hospitals like a birthmark in my brain,

born into sadness, a gut feeling as a child.

Never trusting time

due to what it delivers.

 

Death, being the only thing I desired.

But you, 

who I love,

endlessly-

robbed by it.

Whose ebb for life glowed so feverishly.

Stopped comparing depression to lace,

restricted the belief that suicide is poetic,

seeing things as they were.

More often than not, applauded for feeling emotions deeply.

Every second that dies, the shift of my heart quakes.

 

This world is not tender.

 

II. Sad.

I have known the flowers I wanted at my own premature funeral,

knowing how many bouquets honored you that day.

 

split open my veins like a dimension

reminiscent of days where I anticipated deathbeds.

 

 

My family wondered,

can we make it through another day?

Death scares me for what it has taken,

yet, I’m not afraid to die-

it’s all I deserve.

So I await the day pain erupts

from my throat,

acknowledging the days a soul

lived inside of my body-

footprints that walked,

belonging to me.

 

But I learned so well.

How to suffer with a smile,

dreading the beating of my heart

how unfair—

I don’t want to take these deep breaths

You deserved,while I masquerade as a member of the undead

Never outgrowing the desire to rot with the phantoms residing under my bed.

 

 

III. Jokes played by the universe.

punchlines delivered,

how could anyone to stand to be in the same room as myself?

How could anyone look over skyscrapers and sunsets,

and not be infatuated with concrete consuming them?

How I shared a sigh of relief during the thought-

of knowing people would thrive without me,

or the power of a belly laugh,

resembling a laugh track audience

drowning out 3 AM suicidal thoughts.

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Written by
nucherub
25 / F / Iowa
Published
Jul 20, 2018
Lines·Words
60·376
Notes

I wrote this in pink gel pen, maybe, that’s another joke.

Tags
#ramblingssadlonelydepressedidk#pain#sadnsss
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