Goodnight
She lay on the tile floor
In her favorite white dress,
That is now turning red from the
Fluid that flows from her arms.
She ponders over her past failed
Relationships.
And the one that put her on
The tile next to the porcelain.
That porcelain, ah, where she purged
All her anger and sadness, anxiety,
And grief. Followed by a numbness
That could only be broken by the blade.
The blade she held in her hand.
With a shallow breath
She sliced her wrist
One... two... three....
Oh no—
She cut too deep,
and the blood won’t stop.
Her dress turned from white
To Crimson.
Her breathing slows and of course
She knows.
She’s going to die but it’s okay.
Because she’s been dead for quite sometime now
(2014)
