I’ve thought about it
ending my life.
I do not hold the means,
but the thought slips in anyway,
quiet as dust in the air.
It never shows me how.
It shows me them.
My parents standing in a room
that suddenly feels too large,
too quiet,
their names spoken in past tense.
A voice at the door.
A sentence they cannot unhear.
The ground shifting beneath them
without moving at all.
Strangers with softened eyes,
gentle voices,
hands that do not know where to rest.
I see it before anything else,
the aftermath
spreading like a stain
that does not wash out.
I have known pain.
I will not hand it back to them
with my name attached.
Because there is something crueler
than suffering alone,
and it is a parent
left standing
after their child is gone.
So ask me,
and I will tell you no.
Not because the thought is silent,
not because it leaves me,
but because it stays
and I stay with it.
It has followed me since childhood,
a shadow that learned my shape.
There were days
I tried to carve it out of myself,
before I understood
that skin remembers,
that it keeps score
in lines I cannot explain away.
Even now
it lingers,
a voice without a body,
a door I will not open.
I know the edges of myself.
I know where I stop.
And this
this is one of those places.
-
Author:
Bonnie (
Offline) - Published: April 24th, 2026 01:12
- Comment from author about the poem: I’ve made moves to better healing, have my first therapy appointment soon
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Katie B.
Offline)
Comments3
This poem is raw and open it bleeds pain but at the same time it coagulates into the scab of healing and shows compassion for the feelings of others. It needs time and proper care to become whole but shows great promise. Nicely written and a fave
Glad you’re writing
This resonates with me more than I can begin to say. I've walked this walk, fought this battle. Stay strong. You matter and belong. You are the only you we have. Blessings.
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