As I step onto that chair,
The only object between myself and the air.
That chair.
The wooden legs beginning to warp in the heat of my house.
Or maybe because of the weight it carries.
Because I’ve been here before.
Standing looking down to the floor.
Looking at the flaking paint on the chair.
Knowing it needs a new coat.
But it’ll never feel the warmth of the paint it needs.
I bet it wishes it were a boat.
Sailing the waves, braving the sea.
A boat will be remembered. A chair,
Just like me.
Standing on the chair knowing I’ll not stand here again.
Because I’ve tried so many times before,
But now I give in.
The knots in my stomach seem to mirror who I stand on.
Still looking to my partner.
The chair.
Looking closer to the texture, the valleys and the holes that have been left.
Like age affects us all not just human life.
Maybe the chair needs a loving wife?
Perhaps that’s what I needed.
A wife.
Maybe then the condemnation wouldn’t be so bad.
But in relation to the subtle differences.
The nuances of every man, we know we all feel condemnation.
For simply being ourselves.
Tell me you know God.
Tell me he won’t judge.
He condemns us, just like man.
He decides between heaven and hell.
Perhaps by judging, he doesn’t deserve to live where he lives.
But he does. And men do. We judge.
Not because we mean to.
We just do.
And we always will.
And I’ll be judged for not having a wife.
I once had you.
My man.
But now,
I have my chair.
I want to impress you, so I dress up.
A necklace hanging from my ceiling.
A rope.
I know I want to look my best.
So I wear it.
Hello rope.
Maybe you’ll be my new love.
I know around my neck you’ll catch me when I fall.
Not many men would catch you.
Not even that chair.
He’ll leave me hanging in the air.
And you’ll wrap yourself around me.
You’ll cuddle me.
You’ll rock me when I sleep.
Sing me some swing, rope.
Give me some hope.
I look across to the note I left.
Telling you why I did it.
Picturing you, teary eyed,
Reading out my fears.
My fear of life.
Because I cannot walk around without a name.
I don’t want the attention, or the fame.
Not for being like this.
Sometimes life, is just taking the piss.
And all I can do is smile.
And I don’t even feel like it.
So ask me why?
Why I never said goodbye,
Because I never had anyone to say goodbye to.
So I wrote you this letter,
Don’t cry.
If I was there I’d wipe that tear,
Dripping from your eye.
I loved you, but I lost you.
And maybe you lost me,
Slipping through the cracks on the high way.
Bound to this never ending road.
But it isn’t the end.
Don’t mourne me, or feel sorrow in my loss.
Get up, move on.
I’m not worth this anymore.
I’m still beside you,
Inside you, holding on,
Clinging to you, like a leech in search of love.
And someday you’ll feel my spirit leave.
Because I’ll not be here anymore.
I’ll be gone. A photograph, a note, this letter.
They’ll be me. But I’ll not be with them.
Because I’m slipping away between heaven and hell.
That’s where you found me.
And I know I’ll not belong.
Because I never belonged in life.
A constant outcast.
A bud that never blossomed, but seemed to grow.
And now you know, why I couldn’t say goodbye.
Hello rope.
Will you hold me as I fall?
What’s that?
You hear an angel call?
I hear him too.
Goodbye rope.
Goodbye chair.
Just leave me hanging, in the air.
Just let, my life,


Davie Magill


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