Smoke curls around my head.
Pink Gin
sits on the glass table in front of me.
I take a sip,
coolness gliding down my throat.
I inhale,
smoke hits my lungs.
xxx
I ponder on today’s conversation.
xxx
My mum, discussing a neighbour
who took their life
only yesterday.
She sits and looks at me.
She cannot imagine being
able to do it.
So I reply how lucky she is.
To never have felt that way.
To never want life to end
because there is no
other way.
She nods,
contemplating.
xxx
Little does she know,
I was that person once.
xxx
She changes the subject.
xxx
Now we have my brother.
An attack on him,
unable to defend himself,
I tell her
we are not living his life.
He is torn, scared.
Alone.
xxx
She nods,
contemplating.

Leave a reply to Raymond Johnston Cancel reply