you ask, "why i haven't killed myself?"

I.
the day she died,
i remember my father telling me
there are millions of good girls out there
then i realized, she was the one in that million
and for her, i'll stay alive for another trillion

II.
my hope that one day, this pursuit of happiness
will eventually peruse me to joy and success
but i wear anxiety like a dress
to the point i've made this whole 'killing myself thing' a mess

III.
for all the heartbreaks i've endured
there will be one girl that invents the cure
but i reject love to the point it's lost its allure
and death is the only thing that has become sure

IV.
why i haven't killed myself?
i am already dead.
we said we'd grow up and meet in a coffee shop one day
now you're gone and to see you again, my life would be the price to pay
but you have reserved your soul in me, embedded like espresso in a latte
push these pills away, and hear you whisper "there are other ways"

V.
i outright refuse to hear my grandmother's religion talk about suicide in an ignorant manner.
i rather not be the talk of Christmas dinner
and rather endure my aunt's repulsive dessert than become the devil's bread-winner.

VI.
why i haven't killed myself?
i am already dead.
i am finally starting to find love again
and i'd rather the ink of this pen die before i enter Heaven's den.

VII.
i can't handle seeing my brothers at my funeral
hear them whisper of all my "wasted" potential
then see them leave to use drugs as their coping utensil

VIII.
i would get to see her again in heaven
but she would bring my heart into a deep descend
as she says "to me, you are forever dead."

IX.
everyone would speak about my sacrifice
but i wear pride and it shreds my skin like knives
and god forbid, i disappoint my loved ones before i end my life.

X.
why i haven't killed myself?
can't you see it? i am already dead.
i died the day she left and i'd rather my final words to her
be the last thing i've ever said
than a stupid poem about how i kept wishing i was dead.

she lies in her bathtub
bath walls stained red
tears in her eyes
a smile of relief
staring at the ceiling
"self destruction"
she whispers
slightly laughing
she stares at the blood
seeing it stop dripping
searching for the blade
more self destruction
another cut
no
cuts
more than one
maybe twenty
there is no end
someone knocking on the door
the bathroom door
"you alright"
she heard
"i killed her"
she yells
no
instead she smiles
"i am fine"
she says
she feels like the word are not coming from her mouth
she heard foot steps
walking away
"i killed her"
she whispers
finding herself laughing
but tears keep falling
yet another cut
"i killed her"
she whispers
again
she is trying to believe it
to remember
flashbacks
a door opening slowly
feeling her hands getting heavy
like she is holding something
then nothing but black
"i killed her"
she whispers
she finds herself sobbing
almost unable to say a word
she is sobbing
just like that night
was it night?
she does not know
all she knows is her heavy hands
and
the next thing
crying
sobbing
she is sobbing
next to a body
her body
all she is able to say is
"i killed her"
"i killed her"
she whispers again
she snaps back
finding herself still cutting
"i killed her"
she whispers once again
she does nor try to stop the bleeding
nor the cutting
her hands feeling heavy again
it scares her
is it like that night?
if it was even night
yet she smiles
relief
her sight turns black
she stopped
sobbing
cutting
there are just tears falling down her face now
and blood
dripping
there is always blood
it is always dripping
then she whispers again
one last time
but it is different
her eyes are closed
and she whispers
**"i killed me"