Morning
Flecks of glass across hardwood
shimmering in refreshed morning light
like faux emeralds.
Chair legs rest
splintered and sharp
near the toppled kitchen table
that you bought with her.
Looking down
knuckles: green and yellow
with blistery red accents.
Your eyes are red too
like burst fireworks
or spider webs.
Spent, you sit
on an old wine stain
the carpet carries
letting an empty home fill your head
with silence deserved.
Anywhere
Most days I sit and think
about how I don’t want to be here
nor there
or anywhere.
Neither heaven
nor hell,
earth,
limbo,
a place beyond,
somewhere I can’t get back from,
a plane betwixt time and space,
a void of blank white walls,
a pit of darkness found
nowhere.
My lungs cave in
like they’ll shrivel and fall
caught by my ribs
clinging.
Ambivalence arrives
as tired tears
drop
Heavy limbs
weighed down
at the realization
that nowhere is impossible.
Inside me is nothing
and I cannot go there
so I must stay
until my days have passed
sitting and thinking
of a place neither here
nor there
or anywhere.
Content Warning: Suicide, self-harm, depression, strong language
Last Night
“Why won’t you just talk to me?”
“I am talking to you.”
“No, Bram, you’re not. You’re pushing me away again,” Elexa said, snatching a cup from the cupboard and slamming it on the countertop.
“Well, what do you want me to say? That I’m sorry for calling? Because I am.” The two lock eyes.
After a moment, Elexa slumps her shoulders, the aggression in her arms falling away. “No, I just-.”
“Look, I knew this wasn’t going to work.”
“Bram-.”
“What? It’s what we were both thinking, right? I never should’ve called you. It was stupid of me. I don’t know why I thought that I could-.”
“Bram, I’m glad you called me,” she says, reaching for his arm. He swiftly pulls away. She continues with stress building behind her eyes, “I care about you.”
Rubbing his face roughly, Bram says, “See? That’s the problem. I don’t need you or anyone else to pick up after my shit,” he declares with an exasperated smile and wide eyes.
Heat grazes Elexa’s cheeks at the comment. “That’s really cruel and you know it.” Her stance stiffens as she observes him.
“Elexa, don’t cry over this, okay?” he says, practically laughing.
“Bram… if you hadn’t called me-.”
“I know,” Bram says, his smile fading slightly, “But maybe it would’ve been for the best.”
“For the best?” Now she was the one with the smile, perked up by the absurdity falling from his mouth. “Not having you on this Earth is for the best? Are you hearing yourself right now?”
“Can you stop making such a big deal over this?” Bram asks, aggressively waving his hands in the air.
Elexa presses her palms into the edge of the countertop, displacing all of the weight she feels onto the granite. “Bram, it is a big deal.” She stares at him as if she could show him what she sees. Her heart sinks, knowing it won’t. “I think you should see someone.”
“Elexa, I don’t fucking need someone, alright?” His firm tone dissipates into a cracking jumble. He looks to the floor, tilting his head as far from her gaze as his neck would permit.
“You could’ve died last night, and you don’t want to see someone about it?” Lifting her hands to her head, she rests them there, elbows outstretched, awaiting a reply.
Bram opens his mouth, then stops short. “No,” Bram finally mumbles. “I don’t.” His speech is monotone, utterly void of appropriate emotion.
“So what are you going to do then, huh?” Elexa asks, taking her hands from her head to the nape of her neck.
“I don’t know,” Bram whispers. He wipes across his face and looks back to the tiled floor.
Tears begin to well up in Elexa’s eyes, swirling around in her vision. She chokes them down, causing her throat to dry up. “You don’t know?” Her throat clenches harder, holding back everything he means to her.
After a few steadying breaths and an unsatisfactory swallow, she says, “We both know you aren’t okay. Especially after last night, but even before that. To see you struggle night after night is fucking torture. And I see through it every time you’ve tried to hide it.” She pauses. “Either you get help or I have to leave.”
“I want you to leave,” he says bitterly. “I’m done. Just go.”
“You know you can cut the ‘high and mighty’ bullshit. You are a coward. You’re scared that I will judge you. That the world will judge you. You’re scared to be known. You’re scared that now that I’ve seen you like you were on that bathroom floor that you’ve ruined the disguise that kept me around. I know who you are and I’m still here. I still love you.”
Bram falls silent. With glossy eyes and a clenched jaw, he resumes his previous position, memorizing the cracks and patches of dust on the flooring.
“I’ve said what I need to say.” Elexa backs up from the countertop and crosses her arms. “But just promise me-.”
“That it won’t come to that again?” Bram interjects, lifting his head up to face her. “That everything will be okay? You know I can’t promise that.” His voice is tinted with that dullness again.
“Then stay,” Elexa says in a whisper.
“I can’t. I shouldn’t have gotten this close to you in the first place.”
“Please.”
“Goodbye Elexa,” Bram says, exiting the kitchen, twisting the doorknob, and, with a simple click, separating them for the final time.
***
Please reach out if you or someone you know is in immediate danger or experiencing suicidal thoughts. You are not alone.
911
988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline
CAPS After Hours Urgent Support: 734-764-8312
UM Psychiatric Emergency Services: 734.996.4747
UM Sexual Assault Prevention and Awareness: 734.936.3333
Department of Public Safety and Security: 734.763.1131
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1.800.273.TALK (1.800.273.8255)
The Trevor Lifeline: 1.866.488.7386
Crisis Text Line: 741741
Eyes of Stained Glass
Baggy sweatpants cling to feeble legs
stale and stiff
needed to be washed days ago.
She didn’t wash them. Like her shoes,
her shoes that were stained,
ruined from a soiled world.
And her hair. Curled
but not elegantly. More like unkempt, uncared for,
a nest on her head. Displayed, but not proudly.
Cowering behind her mask,
her appearance in ruins,
but with no name attached.
A person in crisis, no doubt. But who is she?
Beneath coiled knots are worried eyes,
eyes scared to death over lies
told. Doing ‘fine’ but less alive
the more she lingers.
A mass throbbing in her head,
welling in eyes of stained glass
A sickening black
exhalations into evening air,
with a feeling of lack
and indifference.
A dull exterior,
squirming insides inferior
She was something
made into nothing.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zYeJuztwfo3q2dQwU-gnyvkPDvDHgHkHOcOoOdsm1rM/edit?usp=sharing
A Wonderous Day
Sun’s rays force squinting eyes
Grass curls between tiny toes
Laughter swirling in air swept
by each cool breeze
Bubbling waters in the pond
dug by able hands
for fish and shelled creatures
to lay and unwind
Tingling hands
A shift in the air
Heads turning in unison
to the house just across the yard
Rushing past familiar beauty
towards an enthralling mystery
behind four walls
Once inside
figures crowded round
blocking view
Some gasp or shriek of glee
at a sight to behold
In the center of the circle
comes barking
Pushing past
there it is
the dog you will know
for years to come
It will touch your life
in a way only it could
But for now,
you gaze in its eyes
and marvel over this wonderous surprise
