Yesterday, the thought of death was such a sweet temptation.
Rosemary spearmint, the scent of peace and warmth.
Like the dawn beckons children from bed, so did this aroma lure me forward.
And it was so lovely, so perfect, providing a trail straight to the cliff's edge.
Feet brushing concrete, eyes looking over; the bottom is so far below.
Rosemary spearmint, so close, yet so far.
Everyone there, they laughed so joyously, and sang aloud.
A chorus of off-key voices, ringing out across silenced lands.
Rosemary spearmint, filling the air, choking in my lungs.
Peacefully drowning in deaths' wake, as the music went on.
And I'd never felt so beautiful,
Never felt so free,
Than when I closed my eyes,
Spread my arms, and…
…stood there.
Felt the wind, tasted the sky, and listened as the world went on.
Knowing that, even in death, nothing would change.
And so it went on, that night of folly and merry-making,
While I stared out at the cliff, and very quietly ignored that scent;
The scent of peace, the provider of warmth;
Rosemary and spearmint.
