my emotions are dusted with black ash.
the sun: the feeling of hope and renewment, the stars: the tiny wonders of the world, the moon: the
bright night light watching over me: no more.
the smiles: when my stomach hurts and my eyes tear up, the cries: when I may be feeling down but
at least I’m feeling something, the touch: so eccentric and amicable: no more.
the days when you read To Kill A Mockingbird to me: no more.
the smell of sourdough and yeast as we baked homemade pizza in our 10x12 kitchen: no more.
the weekly ritual of movie night: no more.
then the water surges through my lungs.
I am trapped,
just like the noose, only more agonizing.
the death is deliberate and sedated.
I ache with the exertion of the bitter ice evicting the oxygen I so loved.
and soon,
I am no more.
do I give in to the pull?
or do I go out on my own?