Robin Amy Bass

SUICIDE

I rarely think of suicide
But… many people do
Why, even in my family
There have been one or two

Of finger-curling suicides
Their fists curled round their drinks
The details – whispered, when I asked,
Though everybody thinks

One did it ‘cause she was in love
And him – a married man
The other one? Well no one’s sure
Though I came to understand

The devastation that it leaves
On those who now will blame
Themselves – the mourner’s aftermath
It never is the same

Until they join the ones they lost,
And that’s ironic too;
Some get to die not once, but twice
And that’s because of you

How hard we try to liberate
And modulate your pain
At times, I sit here petrified
It’s so hard to explain

See… when I rest my head at night
No gun is at my head
Right next to you, is where I sleep
I reach for you instead

Of reaching for another way
To hurt myself some more
Some times, I cry, and you get mad
That time you barred the door

I didn’t think of suicide
Well not of my own demise
And when I thought what you might do
I put on my disguise

And hid behind a tinted pair
Of glasses I had bought
I didn’t want to make it worse
I thought that if you caught

The slightest scent of cowardice
Self-pity – I’d be dead
I wiped my eyes – and waited till
You said, “Let’s go to bed”

I know you think of suicide
You plan what you will do
But in the end, it’s homicide:
Your death will kill me too