the pain pills lying on both
my mother's
and my father's
sides of the bed
glittered in the moonlight.
the rope in the garage
shined a pretty gold.
the knife in the kitchen
begged to be drenched in blood.
the hidden gun in my friends home
held a beautiful brass bullet.
the rocks at the bottom of the cliff
looked like pieces of graham crackers.
the car keys
sparkled with the desire to be rammed into a street light.
YOU ARE READING
Just A Suicidal Flower
Poetry▪️only one flower was harmed in the making of this book▪️
