i already look dead
already dead
my hair chopped short
in the past months
to rid myself of my
typical
rebellious
look
it now hangs limp and blonde
against the skin
that harsh fluorescent lights
turns sickly gray
my hair eerily white
like the fog
like a ghost
i begin to fade away
i open the mirrored door
and look at the
orange bottles
one of them in my hand
staring at it
through it
i ponder
my pretty blue pills
and when i am here
back in the bedroom we share
i sit down on the bed
take the cap off
shake out two
down them
i watch your face
wait for you
to wake from your sleep
to stop me
but you don't
you don’t realize anything is wrong
when you got back
you collected me
and my things
and moved me out of the home
that held me for five years
we moved to a small apartment
three miles away
my parents were sad
but they loved you
and they knew you
they knew they could trust you
to take care of me
you proposed to me
one foggy evening
we were sitting together
on the rooftop of our apartment
watching sullen cars
slug their way through
pea soup of the night
the cars left behind
for just an instant
an empty space
but if you missed it
if you weren't fast enough
you couldn't see the space
before it filled in with that
strange, gray
fogmatter
and you commented
that the fog seemed to
live
and breathe
and eat up everything
and i looked in your eyes
and i knew
that you knew
that i was thinking the same thing
we were united
and with that
you took my hand
put a gum ball machine ring
on my finger
i looked at it
at you
smiled and kissed you
no words spoken
nothing needed to be said
we both just
understood
i try not to think of that day
as i space out the pills
so i will not give them back
so i do not become sick
my head feels funny
i sit back and wait for it to work
i watch you sleeping soundly
wonder what you dream
is it me?
a long time ago
i would have woken you
just to know what you dreamt
but tonight
today
this morning
i cant force myself to care
about anything
anyone
not even you
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Reviews of "Six Hours (part eleven)"
Reviewed by Kenny3
Reviewed on April 11, 2003
Hey Sarah ~ Its april11th,friday and i just read six hours of suicide from chapter one to chapter 11 and i think its great. I can realate to the medication like satin sheets covering your organs and the false dummy-like drone happiness...i called u, 2 talk. But your dad was home. call me back
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