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.