She wanted to end her life.
End the pain drowning her in
All the years of
being undervalued, unappreciated,
unloved by those closest to her.
Alone, holed up in the bathroom,
sitting on top of the toilet seat.
Fan humming. Air thick with depression,
desperation. Eyes, ocean’s deep of tears
cascading down her cheeks. Exacto
knife razor in one hand, shining
brightly as the engagement ring
downing her finger on her other.
The lightly sunned skin of her wrist,
dotted with infrared lines as she pressed
the razor to skin. Tears streamed
faster; her heart thumped quicker.
With shaky hand, amidst the pain
strangling her, slide the razor
across her wrist, and free herself
from the ills of this world. Seconds
turned to minutes. Her hand now steady,
she replayed memories of joy, of
happiness from the years in her short
lived life. In that moment, her gravest yet,
the silence deafened, with only voices
of “do it”, “don’t do it”. She searched
for something to stop her, to make her
realize she was important.
“Are you ok?”
The voice from outside the bathroom door,
finding its way past the humming fan.
She gathered her thoughts, searched her
throat for courage, responding with all she had,
She propped up from the toilet seat, turned
to face the mirror and the image of death
painting her face. She wiped the trail of blackness
falling from her eyes, blew her nose into
the white tissue paper and opened the door.
She was rescued; freed of the moment she
almost believed the biggest lie
she ever told, and back into the clutches
of those who loved her most,
her children, her soul mate,
Copyright © Joshua Cintron