It’s all in my head,
It’s all planned out.
One nice, clean gash to the wrist
In the middle of the night
In the white, ceramic bathtub
(to match the full moon outside)
And the red that flows into the drain
(to represent the rusty night of the rain)
I’ve thought about it.
It will be deep,
Like the ones to my heart
The wound, but not enough to kill me
It will kiss me,
From my wrist right to my trembling lips,
Yes, I’ve thought about it.
It will be better than the tears that flow
Because blood is thicker and easily hidden
And more effective,
And less frequent.
All I need now is courage.
I admit, I’ve thought about it.