Whether the water is 30 feet or 6 inches deep doesn't matter to me,
because when i jump from this bridge I will drown or die trying.
I am trying to breathe as I gasp heavily, I'm suffocating slowly
and I'm not even knee deep.
There is no water in my lungs, but I can no longer feel my heart beat,
desperately clinging to my surroundings. Waves are surrounding me.
My body is freezing, as I scream silently, lips chapped,
backbone pressed against the mattress.
I wake up clinging to cold sheets, rain has soaked the curtains,
and my feet.
Mom warned me to close the window, but the sound
of the wind must've lulled me to sleep.
As I breathe my lungs expand freely.
I smell delightful aromas coming from the kitchen as
my mother sings. I can hear my little sister laughing at the TV.
I look at the suicide note I had written before nodding off
simultaneously, and I laugh.
Because maybe ignorance and desperation got the best
of me.
I realize I am not living for the people I need,
but for the people that need me.
YOU ARE READING
Heartstrings and Other Things
PoetrySnapping like the strings of violins, red dripping on my fingertips. The angels cry for the bleeding hearts, the sirens sing their songs of sorrow, both sobbing in their worlds, apart, what is whole today is gone tomorrow.
