the soft melody reminds me of
the summer
and the low finger picked guitar
****** my heart, making it ache.

remember:
lonely car rides with mixed CDs
to nondescript houses
where wires attach to heads
that zone out in the hopes of being fixed
in the most science fiction type of ways.

houses where the doctor wrote notes about me
that felt just as painful as the words
the others said behind my back
her words dug deeper
her words stung worse

and so

the water was gonna take me
and I was gonna let it
because I had decided there was
nothing left.

but each time the tub filled
the little strength I had withheld
drained out of me
and I just sat
adding salty tears to the scalding water--

there is something heartbreaking
about not having the will to die
even when its the only thing you
thought you had the will left to do.