The sun hardly rises 
through your east facing windows,
the dark wash of hopelessness 
covering the pane thick as dust.

Your skin is stretched thin 
over weak bones,
a gossamer veil 
protecting you from yourself
in the most insufficient manner.

And I know that,
although you won’t whisper it
to even the moon,
you’ve still been trying to die,
staring up at mountains 
contemplating how the wind would feel 
as you flew down.

I can feel the pain
in your chest 
as you’re driving 
and can’t take your eyes
off the guardrail protecting
the plummeting ditches 
you imagine curling up to sleep in, 
wrapped in metal blankets.

In the back of your mind, 
there she is,
begging you to stay, 
her low voice curling through your mind 
with memories of her warm skin against yours, 
her smile waking you with a hope
you never had.

There she is, 
swimming through your tears, 
breast-stroking through waves of emotions, 
wide-eyed and fluid
as she forgives you from so far away,
her lips pursed and humming
a lullaby
of hope.

Hope you never had
until she appeared before you
like a well-timed vision, 
everything you needed 
contained within her tiny frame,
tucked underneath her ribs waiting
for you to unlock it.

You’ve been trying to die,
but I know that you know
you already have—
as you watched her turn to leave that last time, 
her smile sunken and eyes red,
as you told her there was nothing left for her there, 
that you didn’t want to try 
and that you never would—
as you told her she wasn’t the one,
as you lied and swallowed all thoughts of love,
as you broke her down
to elevate yourself—
but you’ve never felt
so low.

You’ve never felt
so alone.

Your lungs collapsed
as she sucked the air from the house
as the door shut behind her,
suffocating on the fumes from her car
as she pulled out of the driveway
and didn’t look back.