I wrote this to help someone who thought every day about killing herself. If you've ever felt the way she did, maybe it will help you too.


​More Than I Can Say

She is forever gone.

I want to say
That she sunk beneath the waters of her bath
That she allowed their blanket of deathly warm caresses to slip across her face

That she closed her eyes and parted her lips as if about to kiss her one true love.

In a final gasp of liquid breath she merely faded and was gone.

I want to say
that she gently succumbed to her fate.
Her soul had merely chosen not to linger,

and fluttered away into the evening sky,

Like a moth released from behind a porch screen door.

I want to say
that her instinct to turn away from death,
And fight to survive had surrendered to the flood,

So there was no struggle,

And she calmly slipped away.

I want to say all that,
She would want me to say all that.
Both of us wanting to believe that it was true.

But I can not say those words,
Because that was not the way she died.

She was slapped, and grabbed, and tossed aside with harsh bitterness,

And she was made to believe
She never much belonged to be here.
She died with her burnt and blistered soul screaming,

Crying for relief.

Her mind was torn asunder.

The tempest that blew rage,

And hate,
And self loathing,
And hurt,
So much hurt,
Repeating,
Around and around,
in her poor sweet consciousness,
had finally burst ashore.

This time she sunk deep into the muck.

This time unlike all the other times,

She could not run away.
This time there was no escape.

This time it took her.

She thought she was alone.

I want to say
To God in heaven,
Grant me one small miracle.

Please, give her one more chance,

To hear me say,

That she was never alone.
That she always did belong.
That she belongs to me,
And I belong to her.
That I love her,
And I need her

More than I can say. 

Psychologist 

Joseph Dispenza

​Ph.D.