What about a rope around me then? Or to cut vertical instead of horizontal, to force the blood to flow as it rapidly starts to clot.
The body fights for breath. It wills to live.
So I listen to this body then and its desire to endure despite my troubled mind.
A life I feel that I am living twice again. This is what happens when you take your own life. Do I even have the freedom to mourn what I previously wrote, which by a glitch was lost only moments ago? Now I try to replicate the sweet verses which by virtue, can only be written purely once.
I grieve the poetry which came so naturally and was erased in the midst of my ending line. This feels akin to my life. So eerily akin, I live each moment in the memory of an irretrievable past.
How my body aches for its lost colors. This life that was finished too soon...
A world painted of dawn and dusk, the canvas of color vivid and soft in my mind.
Awake each morning, these shamans with prayers and song. Their voices are found echoing across the canyons, gentle and long.
And I walk across the plains of green pastures, barefoot and sun kissed. I hear the hymns around me as I bathe my baby in the lake of sapphire blues. To gaze upon his luminous face... those small hands wrapped inside my embrace. He laughs, and looks up at me this time...
He has his father's eyes.
This and always, to remind me that the rest of him is mine.