The Rope Hangs

Somewhere is your portal to death, the place you will be when your road ends, and for some of us, it will be a rope hanging in a room. Grim, I know, and sad but true.

There is a rope hanging in a dark room.

I taste the room’s air and know it—

Sweet old wood and disintegrating plaster,

And the breaths of old men.

Window shades refuse to open

And my young hands fear

this room dusty with time.

 

An aged pair argue--
That will be us in thirty years, you judge.

That is already us, I reply.

There is a rope hanging in a dark room.

And the memories lay before me

Like the ocean on the horizon,

Tides of past days come silently.

 

Author's Note

Seriously, I am not suicidal, so don't call the psych ward to come get me!

Reviews

[[untitled]]

"Somewhere is your portal to death" That phrase is creepy but so true. Sometimes death is intentional, mostly not. Your work here is descriptive and put together well. I like the imagery you display and the thought behind it.

[An Ordinary Woman]

And the memories lay before me

Like the ocean on the horizon,

Tides of past days come silently

.... Wow girlfriend, this is haunting poetry. I should have read it first rather than last. It is written beautifully and with some amount of deep sadness, it makes me worry for you. :+((

[Dezaraye]

This is a really sad piece. I had to read it a couple of times. It gives me chills and makes me so sad.