Skip the small talk

I hate the small talk

I want to know your deepest secrets

Your regrets, fears

I want to know how many scars you have

How many time you cried last week

How many hours of sleep you lost

Just thinking and writing

I want to know what makes you mad

I want to know how many pills you took

How many steps you took

How many times you racked your brain

Thinking of another way out

I want to know how much it hurt

When you pulled the shiny metal

Across the softest skin on your arm

I want to know if you smiled when you saw the blood

I want to know if the floor felt comfortably cold

I want to know what your last thought was

Was it of me?

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Selfish.