I must write a disclaimer here. I mean no disrespect to anyone with this poem. I wrote this days after Kate Spade committed suicide. I was walking up my stairs at home and I thought, “Brilliant. Hanging with a scarf. I have never even thought of that.” As one who has suffered with depression, I know that I am sometimes just tired. Mentally tired. The thoughts racing in my mind. I love life. I love recovery. I love growing. I love sharing through words. That is what this poem is about. It is not about suicide.
I am not sure if this is satire or a little melancholia. I wrote this to detail my feelings as I discard certain “things” from my home in my desire to lighten the load, and not have so much “stuff.” I was thinking about art in all of its forms. Art that requires physical space and art that occupies mental space. I LOVE art I can touch, but I also love art I can read and hear. This was an effort to console me.
My grief made me vomit sobs.
The pain was not palatable.