At the Edge of Breaking

Two flames, different fires.

Today I broke all the pictures

One by one on the headboard
Of our bed

The glass shattered onto the carpet
I bent to pick the pieces up
One nicked my finger

Wondering at how little it hurt
I watched the blood drip
Onto the sheet

I thought to run a shard down my wrist
Like I watched my mother do -

That’s exactly why I didn’t do it
Two flames different fires

Instead, I cleaned up all the frames
And dumped them at your feet

I walked out.
I chose life.

On November 1, 2015 my 13-year-old son died by suicide.
I wrote this October 15, 2015.

If this piece speaks to you.
Breathe - it will be ok.
You are never alone.

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