Final Postage, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @brianrrs37 on Twitter)

What if he hadn’t
Given you those stamps
Would you have
Done what you did?

What were you sending
It was your ending
To late for anyone
To send them

On him you depended
Though you wanted independence
You had his children
And a mountain of stress

You didn’t want to be second
You wanted to be the best
You asked your neighbor for postage
Knowing it was pointless

Then you opened the windows
For your tiny little ones
Poured them milk, buttered bread
Sealed the door so they wouldn’t be dead

That fucking postage
For what fucking package?
It wasn’t his affair
That wasn’t your baggage!

Those fumes of sweet release
You’d put your mind at ease
The baker’s place, a knob
You turned that bastard on

It took you off to slumber
The postage of forever
I will forget you never
Suicide your endeavor.
(end)

This poem is about the end of Silvia Plath’s last night alive and how she asked for the postage stamps to send some letters or package off to be air mailed the next day and convinced her neighbor to give her the postage stamps. But before she committed suicide she poured mugs of milk and buttered bread on plates for her kids. Opened their windows so the gas would not build up in the hallway and house, and sealed herself in the kitchen with wet towels and tape to keep the gas contained to the kitchen.

Her life frustrates me because I feel so sorry for her. But the same time I am also feel cheated that she cut her life so short and could have had a full life of writing to old age.

If you are having thoughts of suicide do not hold them in. Tell someone, a trusted family member or trusted friend, or co worker, call a suicide prevention hotline or even 9-1-1. There are people who want to help you.