The Math of a Failed Suicide.

It's a self titled kinda deal...

The great end of my life bullet is housing himself in some hotel with gin bottles on the floor, the gin he buys for me and i drink it right up. out comes all of my confessions and blurry disillusions. his hands arn't as cold as mine, but when he touches me i'm arctic winter. every breath is slit wrist and sometimes he fingers the scars he put on my body. sometimes we just stare at each other. like each of us is studing this puzzle. or looking for some missing piece. can i call you my twin sin? he holds me back when i cry in my sleep. his fingers and my messy hair. his voice, cocained and numb. "tara.lee" like i'll answer to anything but "tara.marie."

Subtle were the words that more then just words, they were stones. stones set to build a bridge that would gently walk me to the conclusion that i can't keep anything i hold dear. and when my true love dies without saying goodbye, it's all i can do to keep from turning to ash. and with no net to catch me, well this tightrope of life is looking thin and just might snap.

so i dust my fingers with human rust, stories and photo albums. capture instead of cuddle. my empty parking lot romance has become a city to survive in spite of. with nothing to say to god and with no ear to listen with, it's a empty hall of static and lightening bolts of clarity. and maybe this stairway leads to the attic. the attic where a bed of christmas lights and comic books scatter. sunlight and heat are burning your feet and your smiling at the season, winter, autumn, summer, spring.

and what will you do when you have your love in your grasp?
because coming this close to losing him has made the gap soo much further. you just want your fingers to turn into bandaids and cure-alls. your lips into medicines. (once you said i made you all better. my words were the needles and thread. i healed you so well, nobody could tell their was a surgery.)

if 1-1=0 then you can see the odds of survival, can't you?
if it's the math of you and me
then that swing you took
wasn't for one, but two.
and if i lose you then you lose me too.

if i make you a map
will you follow it home to me?
because i've got the pen and the paper.
i have the road names, the numbers, the speed limits.

i just need your 'yes.'

Reviews

[ComfortableLiar]

Oh my god this is good I haven't read any of your stuff in a while, I've been busy participating in yet another failed relationship but I'm glad I got to read this cuz there went the tingles. I love you Tara Marie! I'll come and visit you soon I hope but for now keep writing cuz it's the only part of you I get to enjoy whenever I want!

[William Usry]

This is very well written. I love non conventional poetry and this is that at its finest. The random, blunt details paint a grim picture that is enjoyable for anyone looking well-crafted poetry and overall artistic expression. Well done I thoroughly enjoyed it.

[Bexers]

This is really well done! I enjoyed how suicide became another person entirely and it was a constant struggle between the character and them (suicide.)

I really hope that if this is about you, you have found a safe release, because we need to keep writers like you around!