Description: Free verse. The first in this series of three poems I wrote that deal with suicide, from a first person perspective. This one is perhaps my favorite. (Note:  Some of the lines in this piece are very long, and may not wrap nicely.)
Rating: PG-13

***

My feet can’t move
I can’t even wiggle my toes like I always do
Stretching them apart to un-stick them from each other
They’re surrounded by the concrete that stops just above my ankles in this box I’ve made
I tried once to spread my knees, but only succeeded in breaking a bone in my calf
The snap of the bone sounded like a firecracker under here, and it tickled my throat
For a while, I felt ten times heavier
Now I’m not so sure
I feel lighter, but I’m not moving upward, like my mind says I should be
Everything is in slow motion now
The water is dark and cold, but pleasant
I see the lights from the bridge somewhere far above me, mostly yellow and white
Some flashing red and blue
I’ve stopped thrashing around, my mind finally realizing it’s useless, accepting this as real
I watch the bubbles rise from my last exhale
Bobbing and jiggling around like they were made of jelly as they float higher
My shirt feels loose on my body, like it would prefer to float away, too
It lifts up, past my bellybutton and bunches under my arms
Big splashes above me, my ears hear the sound a hundred times
The water ripples and becomes too distorted to see anything
Lots of bubbles
Small ones in my nostrils, unsure if they’ve been dismissed for good
I pinch my nose to let them leave
A hand tightens around my arm, and it hurts
I look toward the marauder, and see panic, desperation in his eyes, a gash on his forehead
He should join me
I reach for his denim shirt, tighten my fingers around the material, and pull him toward me
More panic, his eyes widen, and a garbled, watery scream
“Look at me”, I will to him, “see how calm I am?”
His fist strikes my face twice, and I see that there were more bubbles in there after all
Tendrils of blood dance in the water between us, bending and swirling
The intruder tugs on my arm, and I remember the two pieces of my leg when it howls
I push him away, but his grip is too strong
It’s time
I close my eyes and remember why I’m here
I see the woman I loved, who had stolen everything
I see the courtroom, filled with her accomplices, the black robed angel of death
I imagine the cold bars, the stainless steel toilet with no privacy
The bunk beds I never wanted to share
The shower where I would surely be raped
I ordered my body to inhale again, one more time, it had been so long since I’d done so
Cold and burning, ice wrapped in fire, my lungs protested
My body bucked and jerked, and even lost the grip of the would-be-hero
Who was busy kicking his way back to his own world again
And I remember him from earlier in the day
He was sitting beside my wife
He touched her neck once
It was he that I had shoved when I first started running
I think he banged his head on a table when he fell
Bright light, static, the last synapses firing
Somehow I remembered to smile, like I told myself I would