Ode To The Boy Alone In The Coffeeshop

You have eyes to kill over and you don’t know this because men don’t seem to like compliments like this

Your coffee order is complex and I have a feeling its metaphorical for the personality you obtain

The window lets the sun play with your bleached blonde locks and I’m jealous that the sun is able to explore you while I keep my distance.

People say being lonely is sad and unfortunate but the way you old yourself proves

Being alone is not the same as being lonely

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Mirror: Part Three

He finished making the coffee, and handed me a cup. He told me about his work and his schooling and his family and mine. How could I have missed out on so much life? He told me he was just glad to see me out of bed again, and I recalled a time where we would go out for breakfast and laugh and feel and everything felt right. But things were different then, of course I miss it too, of course if I had a say in how my mind worked, I would tell it to stop feeling sorry for itself but that doesn’t seem to work. He placed his mug beside me and used both of his hands to cup my face. I looked into his eyes and just prayed he saw something more than I did when I was looking into the mirror earlier.

“You are so beautiful.” He said as he pressed his lips to mine. I kissed him back deeply, but not too deeply. The last time he commented on how passionately I kissed him, it was because I was going to kill myself later that evening. It would be rude to remind him of that today.

Invisibility

Today I sat in a crowded coffeehouse for several hours

I wrote pros and cons to every suicide method I had considered

I wrote my letters and to do lists for before I go

Nobody knew I was there to plan the end of my young life

No one bat an eye

A girl complimented my outfit a boy asked my name and a bartender asked if I needed anything else.

No one intruded into my worn out notebook

Nobody knew in a few short months my small frail frame will be hanging by a noose in a city far away from here

None of them will remember the quiet girl in the nice dress who gives her name to stranger and didn’t need another coffee was sitting planing her death that sunny Friday afternoon.