SOMETIMES I THINK ABOUT YOU DEAD

By Paris Rosemont

the very thought 

of it frightens me so

i feel compelled to try it

on for size—ready myself, taste

this particular shade of pain

as one might when prodding

a plum-ripened bruise. i need to make

sure i can handle it when the time comes

like when i was fifteen and started

cutting myself

to check whether i’d have the guts

to one day slash my wrists

i don’t think anything prepares you

for such things, really. i’m still

here, so who knows whether the dry

runs would have made any difference

you won’t like this poem

you don’t like any of my poems

where i get hurt

but i don’t like the thought of you

dying. so i guess we’re even

i hope i go first

#darkpoetsclub