open your car door,
light up a cigarette
i say there’s something special
about cigarettes, but I don’t know what
unbuckle seatbelt
you tell me it’s the way you
are prolonging a suicide
it’s like the world is watching you
jump off a bridge,
but not do anything about it
because the fall is slow
i laugh and don’t say anything

leaving your house at 3 am
you tell me not to die
because the roads are bad
and I can barely drive
I snap at you and say
don’t tell me not to die
tell me you hope
it’s instant

on top of a parking garage
my feet almost froze
and i looked at you
and thought to myself
that you are the type of person
i would write poems about not
being able to write poems about
and i wanted to go home
but decided to stay

you did not kiss me goodbye
but, neither did I
unbuckle seatbelt
you asked if i wanted another cigarette
i shook my head and left
you pulled out of the driveway
i hope it’s instant