Suicidal

Silence seeps into the still
The warm night breeze delays its hum
Dancing leaves suspend themselves
The lapping waves have done their deed
It is now time.

I feel the cold touch of your hand
I know you are here with me now
As you patiently wait, consoling yourself
Urging me on, with such haste
I must now choose.

It gleams under the moonlight
Silvery and beautiful, deceivingly innocent
I see my face, the fear in my eyes
Then I see you, the hope in yours
I must do it now.

I close my eyes, shut you out
I say a prayer, would He hear?
I ask the Lord to forgive me, my sins
I pray for deliverance
I am about to do the unforgivable.

I open my eyes, hear your comforting voice
My wrists are slit, I stare with horror at the red
Blood oozes painfully unto my skirt
Tears roll down my cheeks, my body trembles
I am in disbelief.

I did not do this!
I do not remember!
The knife! The knife!
It is stained! The knife!
I do not remember!
I did not do this!

I hear you snarl
But I know I have won
For when I look down at my wrists
No blood do I see
Only the tears I have wept.

You are gone but I’m still here
I look around, listening
The leaves resume dancing
To the soft humming of the wind
The waves lap in response once again.

I know I am safe now
Although I sit here all alone
In the warm darkness
With nothing but a single rose in my lap
And a coffin before me.

~ s.s.k.s.

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Vampire (Aug 2001)

I am drowning, drowning

In this silence of hearts;

The slit wrists –

A scar forever I will bear,

With it the shame.

True Love is a farce;

Faith? Trust? Lies! Deceit!

Love is the shadow that lurks

Behind the fresh innocents,

Threatening to engulf all.

This silence carries me farther,

Father into the abyss;

I do not see the shore: I do not want to.

I do not feel the ground; I do not wish to.

I cannot breathe; I feel I do not need to.

Those lies you weaved,

Have made me into my worst nightmare.

A death temptation –

The purity, innocence lost

In this world of masks.

~ s.s.k.s

What is Love? (Sep 1997)

To Live – To Love – to hurt.
What worth is it all
If one could live and not hurt,
Love and not hurt,
Live and not love?

How can living, loving and hurting
Be justified as fair?
How can it when to love, to give and take, to share
Is only rewarded with bountiful amounts
Of hurt, pain and torture?
How can this be so if to live is to love and thus to hurt?

Isn’t it said that love can
Bring joy in all that one touches,
That it can open all locked doors,
Disarm all hostility – weapons,
Set free the imprisoned souls of the aloof?
How then can love cause grief in such undue bulk?

If love could precipitate such lashings of hurt,
Why call it love?
For if love was capable of such immense treacheries
It would be despicable to differentiate love and hate.

What is love then,
Being not hate, treachery or disloyalty?
Is love then the hard-hitting rascal,
Which toys with ones feelings
Exalts one to the very realms of ecstasy
Only to smash one down mercilessly to the ground?

What then is the price of love?
To hurt? To suffer in silence? To hate?
Why do we so willingly give ourselves up
For this consummation we call love,
When we are fully aware of the heartaches
That we are inclined to experience?

Is it fair to live then,
If only to suffer the obstacle – love,
To bear the undue bulk of love,
And to suffer the abominable pain of cupid’s arrow?

~ s.s.k.s