I think about killing myself sometimes. I’m not really going to do it though, at least I don't think I am, but the thought crosses my mind. Pills. They seem like the best way to go. Smoke a j and take about a 100 Valium. I’d be emotionally numb, immune to sociological pain, calm, placid, and high as a fucking kite, even the news of my own death couldn’t harsh that mellow. Fall asleep and wake up dead.
I think about you too. Sometimes I think about you right before I think about killing myself, sometimes I think about you right after. I wonder would I think about you while I’m killing myself. Would I be dreaming about you when my heart beats no more and my breath and body become no longer one?
I call you on the phone and wake you up cause it’d be late at night, when the moonshines bright, and the owls take flight and flap their wings until they are far far away from the death that awaits. I’d be afraid to kill myself in the light. Afraid of floating away, don’t look down I’d tell myself, but I wont listen and I would, and I’d see me laying there sleeping peacefully. I fear my soul will fill with regret? It is much better to do such things in the loving and forgiving blackness of the night.
You pick up after the 5th ring and I hear the sleep caught in your throat when u mumble hello. Sorry to wake you, I say, I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking about you. I really needed to hear your voice. Talk to me until I fall asleep, like we used to do in high school when we were young and couldn’t see anything else beyond this love. Those were the days. I love you and miss you baby. You repeat my words back at me but they’re your words, I love you and miss you too baby. I tell you how I can’t live without you and how I don’t want to die alone without you. Tell me that you’ll love me forever. Tell me that I’m your soul mate and death can’t even break this bond. Promise me that you’ll find me in the next lifetime. I am your soul mate and you are mine you assure me. In my next life I promise to search to the ends of the earth until I find you again my love. I don’t like all this talk about death its morbid you protest. I’m sorry baby no more gloomy talk, I just needed to hear you say that and I needed you to know that I love you more than anything. Just talk to me until I fall asleep.
Copyright © Reginald Harding, 2010