You and I

It’s midnight and we’re sitting on the ledge of our apartment rooftop, five stories up. Alone and for one last time, you and I sit and talk.

I say to you, sure we can scream, but everyone inside will ignore us.

I told you once that, this is the first step away from those ideations.

Friends and therapists were helping you to accept yourself.

They were worth listening to.

Looking down on the street we ask, why won’t anyone look up?

The difference between the view from our bedroom window

and up here isn’t the view, but the Bronxian air that makes you

stands up as the wind lifts the scent of the damp sidewalk.

So what if you have to take meds for the rest of your life?

You and I, on the ledge think for a second what’s stopping us?

Who can blame the ones who committed? Who could blame you?

They are the ones who turned down life because in freedom there was an escape.

Everyone will say, I’m here for you, but at the moment no one has the will to call for help.

Trust me.

Right as we were on the edge you said, it was going to be a mess here. The bridge over the Hudson, it’ll be cleaner.

Take a breath and relive those moments.

Like the one where dad held us by our hands

on the beach as the water and sand raced to

fill the space between our toes; when after three

years of chasing her she finally said yes to dating

a boy like us; or perhaps when we danced our last

dance in front of hundreds of people, following

our body move like a silk robe flowing from one

side of the stage to the other. Let’s close our eyes.

Recite those words. You are too young to fail. but

we climb off the ledge, and head to the stairwell.

We walk down a flight of stairs, open the front door,

and we walk into our home.

Take our shoes off, our pants, our sweater, shirt,

and change it all.

Turn everything off, even the lights.

Blindly walk to our bed.

By dumb-luck crawl into bed without bumping into something.

Look through the window acting as our headboard. The AC

to our left whirring to the tune of a song that was supposed

to be our last. You start singing along.

I see the difference in the views.