My Quiet Friend

*Trigger* This poem deals with the subject of suicide.



I saw her years ago

She smiled in a quiet room

She was soft

Her body was warm

 As white as the sheets on the walls

a room without a window

for sometime

She’s patched

Like she’s spent a lifetime

Pulling her hair out

She says she’s done more than

taste death,

that it emanates from

her very being.

Death has become a part

of who she is

The circles around her eyes

Like she’s spent too much time

In the dark

The bright bands on her slit wrists

Like the neon signs in Vegas streets.

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