I want to write write write write write.
I want to tap tap tap my fingers over and over.
Spell out sentences, fingers crossed.

Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Friday Friday.
The week dragged on until now it's gone and I don't want it.
My throat hurts from swallowing swallowing good words
and coughing out silly silly silly sayings.
I shiver and stutter and curl miserably into myself.

I looked down into the stairwell at the top.
With hands wrapped tightly around the cold railings,
leaning over the cement spiral down 50 feet.

In just that moment I wanted to drop.
Not jump, not die.
Drop with feet first towards the dirty bottom.
Cool air making hair rush back over my face reaching towards the top.
Straight down, a plummet, and legs crashing first, breaking
into a million fractures up my spine and skull.
Collapsing and laying still, alone until someone finds me by the abandoned door.

Blink.
My neck rests against still clutching hands and beats with a strong pulse.
My eyes looking down at the scene that could be, that will
never be. Riveted.
Tear away, and look back up the stair steps, feet working fine.
Through the door, into the hushed hall.
No one heard my silent shout.