the note

the needle
that was
in your arm
lies on the
stained rug
it's tip
still glistening
wet with
drug, your
doll black
eyes vacant
and large,
your lips, so
ruby red, still
inviting even
in this stunned
state of
final silence.
you have
found the train
to go under,
the tower
to leap from,
the correct
dose to sleep
and sleep
and sleep
and sleep.
and there is no
note. your
life was
that.