The River

It's a river.
This evening a brisk winter chill filled me
And I decided to take a walk.

I walked down the center of the road in the night, between the yellow lines.
The wind blew up leaves into my eyes, and my face grew cold as the temperature dropped.

I walked down to the bridge overlooking the river.
Watched the currents around the pillars.
The leaves floated by underneath me in those murky waters.

The river speaks to you, if you know how to listen.
Tonight, I looked to it.
I thought, it would be so easy. So quick. Just a simple jump.
I could see it - the icy waters raging overhead.
It would only take seconds - a little hypothermia, and then the lungs fill with water, and you lose consciousness.
It would even look like an accident - nobody would ever suspect anything.

What stopped me is, I'm not done yet.
I like to say that everything always works out in the end, and if it hasn't then it's not the end yet.
But I'm not sure I really believe that.
Hope still remains.

But what happens when it doesn't?