Ladders in the Sky
*Trigger warning: This poem contains content concerning suicide — Please read with caution.**
The view from up here is spectacular, everyone looks like ants. And the buildings? Like Monopoly. I loved that game as a kid.
It’s quieter than I imagined. All the hustle and bustle down there, and up here? It’s peaceful. I could almost go to sleep.
But that would defeat the purpose of all…all this. Sleep is restful, this. This is not. I’m surprised I sweat this much. I’m surprised I don’t stink. My favorite was an essential oil combination titled “Happy Thoughts”: grapefruit, jasmine, and honeysuckle. “Happy Thoughts”…isn't it ironic, don’t you think?
The copper feel is in my mouth again. Not sure if it will ever go away, like a phantom limb — a phantom taste. What is with that? It happened when on my period too.
I reach out and my sleeve gently, yet swiftly passes through my hands again. It feels like springtime, all fresh and new. I always try and grab it, I always miss it.
*the tape stops*
She looks at me. “You okay?”
I nod. I don’t feel anything. “Yes.”
“Again?” Her brow furrows.
“Again.” I sit back and exhale as I watch my suicide yet again.
