flirting with death
has become a favourite pastime of mine.
l'appel du vide.
it beckons me to take a step closer
to that ledge i stand on.
because no matter how high the cliff is
i can't help but look down.
i'm not in love with death,
just the idea of him.
because when he and i are together
and his wine soaked lips are near my throat
i forget about everything else.
i forget about how
my mother fell too deeply in love with him
and how all of my friends are dating him too
and how I can't leave the house without hearing his name.
i know he's supposed to be an ugly thing
but all i can think about when i look at him
is that he's such a beautiful prospect,
a gift, even.
after all,
would it really be so bad
to feel nothing?