Flushed.

by Poet on the Piano   Oct 31, 2015


There are times when I want to hit that button.

Self-destruct. I've done it before, why not again? It's all up to me. Am I strong enough to walk away? What if my heart triggers the end? The emotions I could never fully uncover or detect, find algorithms for to turn the timer off.

You summoned me at church. On Hallow's Eve when I was practicing how to beat cacophony on the organ and how to sound melodies from the chaos in my lungs.

I suddenly held one hundred capsules in my hands. I exploded like an angry star, pouring them out over the sink in the dark bathroom, knowing I had options. To save my life or discard it.

I ran - dashed - to the toilet then vomited my hatred for the world into the bowl.

I chose. Life happened. The white pills sank into the sewers of cowardice, into oblivion.

Then, I sang. I sang of pure, crystal tears and memories where I yearned for your hello to embrace me in more than words of comfort.

I went home, shaking yet proud.

Though my love for you isn't completely buried yet, it's fading. And I know I can withstand the fade.

-
Freewrite.

Written 10/31/15 @ 5:31 PM

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