We could laugh at anything
When we were young,
Even ourselves.
We’d sit on your kitchen floor
And drink coffee
While listening to colorful music.

It was always the kitchen floor.
Your parents never understood.

We could talk about anything
While sitting
On a magical kitchen floor.

Last night
Is a blur.
I’m told that I was found
Laying there
On the kitchen floor
Covered in my own *****,
Muttering incoherently.

I thought if I drank myself to death
It would look like an accident,
But I mostly did it
Because we didn’t have enough pills
For a cocktail of medication
To put me to sleep.

I remember I was trying to open another bottle
As I slid
Slowly to the floor,
And then
I know I ended up in my bed.
With two friends,
Neither you,
Pushing water into me
While I told them over and over
I was sorry
And I love my family.

On the kitchen floor
You and I found peace of mind,
And on the kitchen floor,
Is where my first true attempt
At death
Ended.