Two beat the crows.

suicide.

two large creases
one down each of your wrists.
rivers tied to your forarms
pouring rotten fish
and seaweed from its stomatch.
when you left
you took my eyes with you
and i saw the way your lips shook
and turned blue
and pale,
like the back of the moons head.
but you hid all the snails
in the creases.
and it rained rose pedals
the night you gave yourself a beating
the night you swallowed all the snails
every pedal trying harder
to tighten your eyelids.
to lighten hearts
to beat the crows.

Reviews

[Frantzuu]

Creative like she said below and tragic. :)

[Jean P. Prudhomme]

suicide? not nice...life is wonderful! hurray etc. for life =)

[Tina Kline]

Tragic, but a very creative way to describe suicide.
Even so, the pain of the loss comes through.
A really great poem on a sad subject.

Good work!