Suicide Letter Poem by Monique Leo

I will miss the sunsets
The sound of the wind
The smell of grass

And the smell of my favourite conditioner.



I will miss the softness of a rose petal

The joy of the first day of winter
The sound of the rain as it hits my window sill

And the feel of freshly washed Egyptian cotton bed sheets.

I will miss that first sip of coffee in the early afternoon

All while watching flocks of birds make patterns in a cloudy sky.



But what use are these beautiful things when all you feel is misery?

Misery loves company and I am its best friend.

You can become addicted to pain, to sadness. 

Pain so real. A broken heart - unfixable. 
Why live? 

Why watch as sadness kills slowly, eating up every last bit of light like a closing door.



When it's good, it's great. But great is no more.

I will not miss this pain.
 I will not miss this life.

Think of me when it rains.

Goodnight.