She walked to the cliff. She stared at the sky.
She glanced at the sun and saw Icarus fly.
Yesterday men with coloured wings came to this site;
they ran off the cliff and ascended in flight.
They yelled and they whooped in their joy at being free.
She had found her way out. Icarus she could be.
*
He sat at the bar and he joked with his friends
of the myriad ways a relationship ends.
"But this one I'll keep." (He mentioned her name).
"We play such good games, I will play those again."
His text message sounded; he read what it said:
"By the time you read this, I am probably dead."
*
She stood on the cliff, watched a stone hurtle down,
watched it tumble and crumble and crash to the ground.
Her foothold came loose as the surface gave way;
she fought for re-balance, grasped air in dismay.
Her thigh stripped of skin sliding over the ledge,
her blood pouring down, she slipped over the edge.
*
"I've travelled to Heaven, the place where we stood,
where you kissed me and promised we'd be here for good.
But promises fell through a chasm of pain
the night when you slept and you mentioned her name.
I'll not be your toy, but I can't walk away.
I'm ending despair. Today.
*
The laugh left his face and he raced to the door.
He jumped in his car, pushed his foot to the floor.
He drove like the wind to the cliff by the sea.
Oh yes, this was the place. Oh no, where could she be?
He'd never suspected she'd meant what she'd said
As he'd pondered new ways to entice her to bed.
*
A crag stopped her falling and left her to lie.
Her eyes facing down watched her tears say goodbye.
Her ears cried out, Listen. A whirring somewhere.
A rope crossed her vision. A hand stroked her hair.
A harness wrapped round her. A voice: "You're OK."
A tug on the rope and they lifted away.
*
She wasn't around. Was this some kind of game?
A shock to his soul in revenge for a name?
"Ending despair." What a crass thing to say.
Pretend suicide? What a sick game to play.
He stabbed his annoyance by text to her phone.
He dusted his trousers and drove his car home.
She glanced at the sun and saw Icarus fly.
Yesterday men with coloured wings came to this site;
they ran off the cliff and ascended in flight.
They yelled and they whooped in their joy at being free.
She had found her way out. Icarus she could be.
*
He sat at the bar and he joked with his friends
of the myriad ways a relationship ends.
"But this one I'll keep." (He mentioned her name).
"We play such good games, I will play those again."
His text message sounded; he read what it said:
"By the time you read this, I am probably dead."
*
She stood on the cliff, watched a stone hurtle down,
watched it tumble and crumble and crash to the ground.
Her foothold came loose as the surface gave way;
she fought for re-balance, grasped air in dismay.
Her thigh stripped of skin sliding over the ledge,
her blood pouring down, she slipped over the edge.
*
"I've travelled to Heaven, the place where we stood,
where you kissed me and promised we'd be here for good.
But promises fell through a chasm of pain
the night when you slept and you mentioned her name.
I'll not be your toy, but I can't walk away.
I'm ending despair. Today.
*
The laugh left his face and he raced to the door.
He jumped in his car, pushed his foot to the floor.
He drove like the wind to the cliff by the sea.
Oh yes, this was the place. Oh no, where could she be?
He'd never suspected she'd meant what she'd said
As he'd pondered new ways to entice her to bed.
*
A crag stopped her falling and left her to lie.
Her eyes facing down watched her tears say goodbye.
Her ears cried out, Listen. A whirring somewhere.
A rope crossed her vision. A hand stroked her hair.
A harness wrapped round her. A voice: "You're OK."
A tug on the rope and they lifted away.
*
She wasn't around. Was this some kind of game?
A shock to his soul in revenge for a name?
"Ending despair." What a crass thing to say.
Pretend suicide? What a sick game to play.
He stabbed his annoyance by text to her phone.
He dusted his trousers and drove his car home.
