Suicide’s Note In Turquoise
I watched you catapult desperation
into shifting glass that day-
you would have cracked it, but
the waves tore it to pieces before
anything returned to the shore in ribbons-
foaming at the mouth, you and ocean
found each other caught in a battle,
delta-changed sound absorbed by crashing tides,
where her turquoise sent fury flinging back
in retaliation for your every curse. A
reverse-psychology siren song of the rocks,
or anything to keep you away because
she (cool, calm) didn’t want your kiss
intended for the ground you broke.
Maybe you can find the answer in
the shadows of a precipice, tucked away
in darkness housed by mighty mineral,
but we both know that clear waters
do not mean forgiving ones, just
deep and infinite and permanent
and when you glance down at the
shimmering and opaque and colourful and rippling
surface, all at once, you see me, and it is
I: the one who
will never be heard, will
never be satisfied.
Shruthi Shivkumar has been writing since she was able to form letters with a pencil, and started writing poems shortly after. She is a student at the University of Pittsburgh double-majoring in Biology and English Writing, and loves the colour turquoise almost as much as she loves the wonderful humans in her life.
The Ekphrastic Review
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