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Cheap Conversation

A heavy poem about suicide.

By Silver Serpent BooksPublished 2 months ago 2 min read
Cheap Conversation
Photo by Erica Li on Unsplash

The words curled from her lips like smoke,

Bitter like dark chocolate with enough sweet tang

To override the sour flavour hanging in the air, in the words,

"I'm the cheapest you'll get."


Red lipstick clung to sides of her intention like fall colors

Peeking through a creeping mist,

This creeping mist that on followed her ruby heels.

"You do find me pretty, don't you?"


A trap of a question if ever I heard one.

Knives were beautiful and so were the polished barrels

Of the gun pointed at your head.

"I'm easy. Quick. Painless."


Those words heated something deep in my belly,

Something I thought I had forgotten and moved past.

She was prettier now than she was before.

"I'm the best too, the best you could ever hope to find."


Maybe that was true and maybe it wasn't.

A seductress is still a seductress no matter what face

She feels like putting on for the night, even if it is kind.

"The best for the price."


That makes it a bargain then.

A bargain with death.

Could you call a loss a steal still?

"Net positive."


More good than bad, leaving this for her.

Hard to believe even on the worst days

And this was one of the bad ones.

"Give it a shot."


A shot.

Boy, she had a way with words.

They were curled in my ears like waking snakes.

"Not as poisonous, baby."


Poison like this is subjective.

It clouds the blood with the black fog of an inescapable night.

The dreary depression of always fighting something unseen.

"Kiss me."


She was cold on my lips, hard on my teeth, cold in my mouth.

Smooth in my hands though and finally quiet.

Everything was quiet and still.

Even the birds of the forest.


Dusk had already left me to my own devices.

The chill crept in from somewhere,

Or maybe it seeped out of me.

"I'm the best you'll get, baby."


Cold, cold, cold fire

Burst with light within my skull, my chest, my soul.

And all that was left was a sad little thought.

"Maybe I could have gotten better."

slam poetrysurreal poetrysad poetrynature poetryCONTENT WARNING

About the Creator

Silver Serpent Books

Writer. Interested in all the rocks people have forgotten to turn over. There are whole worlds under there, you know. Dark ones too, even better.

Reader insights


Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

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Comments (1)

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  • Bonnie Bowermanabout a month ago

    Beautifully expressed haunting images! Well done!

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