and you found her hanging
she talked to you about the edge of the sea,
the way the waves crept up her legs, up her neck;
she talked about the way the saltwater filled her mouth, her nostrils,
and you found her hanging.
she talked about the way she bled out her wrists,
alone on her bedroom floor, and in the bathtub,
you found her, you mopped up her blood,
and you said nothing.
she explained the poetry bookending the bright white scars,
and you nodded, indifferent; you told her that you care.
retail clerks asked her about the words, or the scars;
you did not, you let your eyes slide away.
she talked to you about the sea, about the bath,
about the poetry and the scars, the blood.
but she was suffocating like the saltwater, she was filling up her lungs,
and you found her hanging.