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Anatomy of a Suicide

You assume that they will think of you
and smile.
Remember all of your best attributes,
wish you were here.

Sometimes that’s true.
Sometimes it’s not.

Sometimes I want to bring you back to life
just to tell you how angry I am.
To tell you I love you
and that he deserved better.

m.e. peters

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Panicked

I wonder if you sleep well.
Do your eyes pop open in a panic,
“What have I done?”
“What did I become?”

Do you think about me
the way I think of you?
In the night, chest heaving.
Heart-wrenching, soul bleeding
thoughts.

I know you don’t feel my fear
but you should.

m.e. peters

 

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Photo: Photo by Drew Graham on Unsplash

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Mine

When I say it was a long time ago,
I mean that my nightmares are less frequent.
When I say that I’m over it,
I mean I think about it often.
I mean that I don’t function
without reminders of you.

Day to day
you are in my blood.
Surging through me
unseen, but felt.
Coursing through veins
I often dreamt of slashing.

I don’t want you here,
yet here you are.
Mine, always.
Just like you said.

m.e. peters

 

 

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Photo Credit: Photo by Stefano Pollio on Unsplash

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Parasite

Like a carver whittling away wood,
like a butcher slicing carcass,
like a razor piercing skin.

A needle etching into blood,
a knife engraving letters into a tree,
a dog tearing through bone.

Like a mosquito making meal of me.
You are always here, gnawing.

m.e. peters

 

 

 

 

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Photography: Lanaya

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Pity.

Don’t look at me any differently.
Don’t cock your head to the side
with a half smile full of pity.
Don’t tell me you’re so sorry.
I wouldn’t change this for the world.

Trauma
turned me into iron.                               I fought tooth and nail to stand here.
I bled for this to be over
and now it’s over.

m.e. peters

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Art Credit: Nour

@sparksflyidraw