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cheyenne-bakerPoems
Rifle through the closet, find the bag of bags you’ve collected for years. The Journey’s bag, that purple bag with the cinch- it once held the shoes you wore during your first kiss. Go through the bathroom, search the cabinet for the hairspray in the black can. “Extra Firm Control”, your mom’s favorite kind. Locate that brown woven belt that you once took off to lose your virginity, curled like a snake in the bottom drawer. Put your head in the purple bag like you would *** a mourning flower. Empty the black spray can into the bag that cradles your head like your mother will. Pull the bag string so tight it burns your skin, your own special hang man’s noose. Braid the brown woven snake around your wrists and behind your back - tug so hard it almost breaks before making the handcuffs whole. Sing while you do this, let the last thing you say be a song.
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Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:03 PM UTC
The Last Moments of Your Fifteenth Year
Rifle through the closet, find the bag of bags you’ve collected for years. The Journey’s bag, that purple bag with the cinch- it once held the shoes you wore during your first kiss. Go through the bathroom, search the cabinet for the hairspray in the black can. “Extra Firm Control”, your mom’s favorite kind. Locate that brown woven belt that you once took off to lose your virginity, curled like a snake in the bottom drawer. Put your head in the purple bag like you would *** a mourning flower. Empty the black spray can into the bag that cradles your head like your mother will. Pull the bag string so tight it burns your skin, your own special hang man’s noose. Braid the brown woven snake around your wrists and behind your back - tug so hard it almost breaks before making the handcuffs whole. Sing while you do this, let the last thing you say be a song.
#suicide#depression
cheyenne-baker
Written by
cheyenne-baker
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:03 PM UTC
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