The Ballad

i thought if my screams were loud enough
you'd rescue me
but you were deaf to the sound of my voice
your own earpiercing lullaby
is all you've ever heard
but suicides have their own language
asking 'which tools'
rather than 'why build'
you watch me
waiting
waiting for me to unwrap an old wound
waiting for my wrists
to spill crimson into a thirsty world
your lie that i mistook for a kiss
ever so carelessly left open to that page
but his love, whatever it is;
my infection and my cure.

by Claire nc Castachino

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