Suicide (Poetic) Poem by Eila Mahima Jaipaul

give me a cigarette, and I promise to be a good girl.
to stop hiding myself under the bed in nights
when the heat has gone out,
to chew my veins.

poetry is the only way to die
without the ugliness of death.
without the stillness of mortuaries
and disgusting coffins...
without the coldness of grave.

it is subtle,
pretty as well as cruel, this blurr,
where you can't tremble troubles away
to become coarser, rougher at the edges.
all the while getting accustom to darkness.
you never get used to it though.