Before I Leave You
by Shaun Terry
I need someone to tell me how I feel.
I’m just another desperate person
waiting for my dreams to end,
laying in the dark,
on my icy apartment’s linoleum floor,
testing the limits of hypothermia.
I’m dangerously quiet now.
Acid bubbles beneath the thin sheet of
skin that envelopes my brittle bones.
I no longer notice any of millions of passing thoughts.
My joints are gyrating,
and I can’t close my eyes.
I left the kitchen knife on the nightstand;
it still has my blood and your fingerprints on it.
I’d finish the job,
but I’m too tired to pick it up.
You smile so beautifully when you watch me bleed.