suicide: her choice of weapon

Indie, can you call your brother for me
I’ve got 50 Valium and I’m going to take them
one by one until he calls me
I’m not doing okay
I need him here
he’s the only one that understands
my depression

There’s a doorway where your legs should be
love confused with possession
that holds him tight
while you fuck other guys
more than half your age
and pretend like it’s not cheating

I’ve seen the way your skin stretches taught
over your fragile bones
Valium in your eyes
an invisible blade at your wrists

There’s a black eye and a door handle
drugs, money and blackmail
and I saw him cry
trying to figure out why
you wanted to light his world
on fire
all bridges burned

And now there’s nothing left but ash
penniless drug dealers
anger and the kind of men
that would beat a woman bloody
for less than your Chinese whispers

He said you tried to hang yourself
but that’s not quite true
you only attempted to try
to hang yourself
the noose tied but not strung
your cries for help nothing
more than a game
when you’ve cried suicide
so many times
your words cease to hold
all meaning

And now you’re messaging me
telling me you need to see him
despite the fact he changed his number
so you’d stop the
“I’m going to kill myself
if you don’t come back” phone calls

Today, I’m the phone call to the cops
your message found an hour late
wondering if you’re dead
or alive
because my conscience can’t handle the
what if you’re serious
… this time?

© Indie Adams 2015