I was staring at the gun today. underneath my bed.
never looked at a gun like it was the only answer to a question I’ve been afraid to ask. 
but I did today. 
I didn’t dare touch it, just let my thoughts dance around the box it’s in. 
what is there left to do when the only answers are ones you can’t let yourself think.


your body moves like those inflatable snowmen I see in people’s yards during Christmas. 
and some people let them stay long after winter has gone, 
completely deflated and laying in a puddle like a body that has died. 


I stood there away from the bed, my arms to my sides, my fingers grasping 
the edge of my dress. I pulled hard, forced the blood to rush to my tips. 
I wanted to grab the gun. I wanted to let it all drift away. 
everyone feels this way at some point. something snaps inside us. 
a button pops off and we lose the ability to sew it back on. 


I know there’s a reason I couldn’t do it, 
why I never could. a gun seems like such a harsh way to go. 
give me the pills again, let me lay down on the snow outside. 
let my last thoughts be of this moment, nature giving me one last hug.



I don’t want you to save the world for me anymore.

02/20/2014
Posted on 02/20/2014
Copyright © 2024 Ava Blu

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by George Hoerner on 02/20/14 at 03:10 AM
I sat there one day many years ago with a loaded 45cal. pistol in my hand. If I recall, it had somewhere between 7 and 9 'safeties' on it and I knew how to release all of them. But I was young and not ready. I think I wouldn't hesitate if I had it today. But I can wait a little longer. I hope you can.
Posted by Steve Michaels on 02/20/14 at 03:49 PM
If I look at the "gun" as a metaphor for a tough decision - perhaps the ending of a relationship or moving to a new locale - yeah - the gun is fascinating!
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/20/14 at 03:57 PM
You've captured this moment of "what could I do now" with gripping imagery. I like the inclusion of the Christmas balloons that truly always look dead half the time during that season. I also like the pulling on the dress - it's a very unique idea, willing the blood to the tips that way. Much to think about with this one.
Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 02/21/14 at 02:59 PM
there are so many roads that wind through this poem, and each one is highly scenic and existential.  
Posted by Joe Cramer on 02/21/14 at 08:33 PM
... wow... excellent!!!
Posted by Richard Vince on 08/11/20 at 11:03 PM
wow. this reads quietly but powerfully, like an empty house. "a button pops off and we lose the ability to sew it back on" and "let my last thoughts be of this moment, nature giving me one last hug" are particularly incredible lines that somehow stand out among the awesomeness. superb.