Suicide

The day I kill myself

Will be sunny.

It will have rained the night before

The windows glazed softly

The sun will kiss me in polka dots

through the pane.

One of the first things people tell you

When you say you want to kill yourself

Is that you need to remember how loved you are.

There’s such a thing as being too loved

There’s such a thing as being love’s captive

Forced to love someone because you don’t remember

How not to love them anymore.

There’s no chaser for failure

I keep vomiting it into my lap

And then I am standing in my driveway

Melting into someone who doesn’t belong to me

Because I am lonely.

Even with more hearts than I can carry

I feel nothing

So, I use my hands as doors

To explore the tombs in my wrists
But I don’t stomach the thought of suicide well these days.

The bullets taste like avocados

Avocados taste like lead

And I wonder if I am misfiring

Or predicting the future.

Brittany Lisa Carey is a Buffalo born and raised poet and fiction writer. She spends her free time bonding with her cats, taking pictures and going on adventures.