Contracts

My therapist once told me,
“You don’t strike me
as someone who
fears
Death.”

I blame it
on knowing
Death
pretty well.

We’re not friends,
but we’re not foes either.
Our relationship
is purely transactional.
Death watched me
from afar

before tucking me
in every night
before bed
at 13.

Death promised me
wondrous gifts
Life
couldn’t offer:

Heaven,
Quiet,
The End
of Pain.

My suicide notes
at 15
was Death putting
the promises in writing.

Life
may have stepped
in time
for me

to shred the
contracts,
but Death
still kept the offer on the back burner.

Even when
Life
was treating me better,
Death still seemed

appealing
at 21.
Ideation was filled
with Death’s gifts,

but I didn’t intend
to unwrap them
this time.
Death still checks

in on me
when an episode strikes me,
when
Life

fails
another loved one.
Still
it’s nice

to know
that I’m not afraid of Death
for a completely
different reason now:

our negotiation will come
naturally;
not forced
through suicide notes.