She sits silently staring,
Small box in her open hands,
Contemplating in solitude the container’s contents.
An arrangement of grim options lay before her,
Like an assortment of sweets for a saddened soul.
One by one she imagines their outcome,
The sweet release of an option taken.
Baby rattle sounds of the bottle in hand,
Swallowed in handfuls chased by tears.
Some fall across the floor
Like the confetti to her dark party decor.
She imagines this shaker of pills–
Her lullaby in death’s cradle.
Burning claws of the devil himself.
Dragging across her arms,
The pull of this blade to guide her to hell.
The hell she sees for herself…
Lifeless, left bathing in red regret.
Her chest heaves as tears fall.
In hand a photo of a place she recalls.
A mountain pass bridge
That sits as lonely as she,
With the most beauty she could hope to see.
One last smile to take with her,
No longer a burden to those around.
She fantasizes of a quiet trip.
Knowing that she wouldn’t be missed,
The salty taste of fallen tears
Prepare her for the flavor of her watery fall.
The rush of the icy river below,
Sweeping away the burden of her.
No remains to show–
Startled alert by the alarm bell toll,
She hides her treasures so no one will know.
For she is too tired to decide,
And the sun has begun to rise.