Softly spoken through muted syllables,
in these---our moments of contrition.
She wanted more in the end,
more than the steel cord in her hand.
She wanted to escape,
though she didn’t know just what that meant.
Sepia hue of these streetlights,
painted her a Van Gogh of Starry Nights,
on stucco walls and winter grime.
The pigment of her eyes dissolved beneath,
icy tears that dropped to her feet,
as she sought out glimpses of mercy.
She lifted herself to the ledge with no refrain,
where the shine inside her mind,
leapt away from the pain,
into shimmering darkness.