Sometimes, I think.

Sometimes I still think about killing myself,

It dampens my mind, but only for a brief moment,

Once suffocating, now a moment spent pondering,

It's not because I'm unhappy,

Nor is it because I wish to leave,

But it's rather just me resting in my cocoon of silence,

Avoidance is displayed best.

Sometimes I still think about killing myself,

The thought of the world spinning on even when I'm not around,

Floods my body with relief,

Knowing my mistakes, hold no weight here.

Sometimes, I still think about killing myself,

But in these moments of guilt,

Of ravenous selfishness,

I remember,

The robust beauty of being alive.

I remember,

How to fall in love with living.

Even in those moments when I think about my departure,

I feel the weight of a lover pressed against my skin,

mashing of membranes,

laughter etched in the hallways,

music webbed in the bricks of the house we lay in.

Maybe today, I won’t think of killing myself,

For the weight of the world no longer laid on my chest,

Dozens of faces have gripped my heart,

Lending me their hand when I can not rest.

And I’ll remember,

When all of my days were spent pondering my exit,

evaluating my departure,

selfishly,

desperately,

I’ll be able to release my breath.

On that day, so close I can feel joy dancing in,

I think I’ll make it, peaceful within.