Suicide Notes on Stationary

She sits there writing suicide notes

on stationary, lying 

stomach down 

on the trampled park grass,

personalizing each note 

with a name

an address

and no goodbyes. 

When she rolls over (because her arms

are starting to fall asleep 

from the elbows down) she examines

the imprints of the blades 

on the fronts of her thighs, 

the little mazes 

of pressed flower skeletons

forever worn onto the tanned satin of her legs.

She thinks if she were a flowers she’d be

a weed–

the pretty, understated kind 

that pushes its way up through sidewalk cracks,

chasing the sun,

until a foot falls down 

and there is no room left

to grow. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s