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I thought she was crying
I couldn't see
But i could hear the sobs
So I walked slowly
Around the cold floor
And around my words
Until I came close.
I couldn't see
But i could feel her towel.
It was soaking.
She must've been in a lot of pain i thought
Wiping her tears
Her cries got louder
Sitting on an anchor
Pushing my mind back to listen.
As her cries calmed down with my tip toed words
I began to feel the towel again.
My focus became less precise and started to wander.
I no longer only heard her crying
Or felt the towel
As the rest of my senses came back to me,
I began to smell iron.
The lights came on as the crying stopped.
And i saw the towel was red.
I thought she was crying.
A barely audible gasp escaped
A barely audible gasp escaped me when I got to the end... Such a moving piece. Suicide is such a complex topic. To those who have thought it or tried it, it's quite a scary thing - you almost feel as if you aren't in control of your own body anymore, that your sadness is the one doing the dirty work... To those who scorn those that attempt or, unfortunately, succeed in suicide, just don't know what it's like to be filled to the rim with sadness that it takes over. Uncertainty, vulnerability, low self-worth... They're a damaging combination.
Thanks for writing and sharing this piece. Your words are tactfully used and couldn't have come across any more powerful.
"A poem is never finished, only abandoned" - Paul Valery
Very powerful write
Deep, strong and moving.
We do not know what is truely going on within other persons.
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I am an artist of words as well as paints.