portrait of a never suicide
you were standing on the edge of a cliff. the wind blowing too hard could've knocked you off. you were sure-footed and steady, and in that moment i wanted nothing more than for you to fling yourself off.
the sun streamed through your hair, lighting you up in shades of gold. with the shade of red your hair was dyed, it was almost like your head had been set ablaze. a glorious crown of fire. your skin appeared translucent. you were made of glass, then. still cooling off from the kiln.
your eyes were closed and i realised i would never be strong enough to see you step over the edge, to see you smash into dust. that was a hard realisation to come to. it made me cry, later that day. it's made me cry, more recently. i hate you. you fill me with such anger i stop feeling human and start feeling like a dog caged for far too long. i want to tear you apart limb from limb and see you bleed out. i want to hear the way your body thuds into the ground abd the snap when your bones break. i want all those things more than anything, but i will never be able to bear to see them happen. i hate you. come home safe.