the long goodbye

she tried several
times to get to
the other side. pills,
a razor, a leap into
the river from a too
low bridge. but the
efforts were weak
and she promised
wearily to do better,
as did sylvia or anne,
or countless others
awash in the brackish
waters of their
minds. she once
wrote a letter in
a car, in a park
overlooking the grey
river as the rain
turned the windsheild
into one large tear,
it was a long farewell
to everyone that
mattered, though not
enough to stay. but
then the sun came out,
and the rains stopped,
and she lost her
nerve, her enthusiasm
for death dwindled,
at least for that moment,
and she put the gun away.