3rd Annual Poems About Suicide Month

[rayheinrich]

Here, I'll tell. I fell in love with a shadow, with a dream. And yes, it sounds cliche, but you mustn't take things so figuratively -- not everything I say is poetry.

I fell in love with a shadow, with a dream. She was beautiful, with red hair, green eyes, and a body made of marble. Now that last one, that was figurative.

I fell in love with a shadow, with a dream. And her mind was beautiful, too. She always knew what to say -- rather, how to say it.

I fell in love with a shadow, with a dream. And her heart. She was the first (and last) person I ever truly talked to -- and the only voice I actually loved hearing. (Don't you see? When I'm loud like this, I'm not saying anything -- I'm just coaxing you to speak louder. Not that you ever notice, you Narcissus)

I fell in love with a shadow, with a dream. Maybe a memory, although that's a question I don't want to consider anymore, it's caused me such heartache.

...

When I kill myself, it won't be for my sake, but for hers.

"I fell in love with a shadow" definitely sounded cliche until I read how you wrote it. Liked muchly.
And the wound part was disturbingly good. And killing yourself to end others misery is one of those
egotistical suicidal delusions that's so often true. A crafty mix!

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        70 miles an hour

        telephone poles

        turn the steering wheel or listen to the radio?