She paced the halls. Whispering goodbyes to every creak in the floorboards. Brushing her fingertips across every crack and bump on the walls. She had made the bed, out of habit, but she wished she’d left it messy, lived in. She stepped out the front door in her favorite dress, she felt the snow crack under her bare feet. As she turned to lock the door, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. She couldn’t say goodbye just yet. She’d have to forgive herself for that. She walked to that familiar place. The creek was frozen this time of year. The bridge caked in snow. She hardly remembered the walk; hardly felt the cold ache in her feet. She walked the edge of the bridge like a child pretending to walk a tightrope. But her smile never reached her lips. She glanced at the ice below. So far below. It was her mirror. Her window to another life. But she couldn’t watch it come. She spun on her heels, stretched out her arms, and watched the sky grow further away. The ice shattered beneath her, and she was swept away in a sea of broken glass. But she never felt a thing.
Back home, under the soft glow of her bedside lamp, was a note that read:
Some people can’t be saved.
(c.b)
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Author:
c.b (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 23rd, 2017 21:16
- Comment from author about the poem: As an assignment for my Philosophy of Death and Dying course (I know, college is weird) I was told to write about my ideal death. This is not that assignment, but it is inspired by it.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 33
- Users favorite of this poem: alisha
Offline)
Comments3
Enjoyed your baleful prose. This would make a gorgeous beginning for a novel.
Your poem is so real. Great chapter for a book. Lovely
I have to agree with the other comments that this would be a great beginning for a novel. Starting with the suicide of the heroine, then back to her life with many twists and many layers. Your writing is really good!
I have been fighting with the thought of writing a book. Haven't got there yet. But thank you
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