My washing machine
when it ends the cycle
plays a jaunty little tune
It's like it's so happy
it finished washing
and invites you to join in
My oven, just dings once
when it determines
the food is cooked
If you don't hear the bell toll
the food eventually looks
like something the cat dragged in
My phone beeps
just once
with a text message
from someone
who went away
for months and months
My email dings
delightedly
once all the spam
is downloaded
and my television turns off
in precisely 90 mins
as I instructed it to do
I'm asleep before it exploded
There is a certain tone
to each and every ending
a little ditty, a tinkling bell
or, just,
an unconscious pretending

Here lies
her name in dust
She achieved
Love from Lust
She lays down
in a field of shame
then the grave marker
**ran out of dates
and forgot her name

She slowly walked down the hall,
the bells had long ago tolled
It's the only thought she can hold
She paused at the painting
she had rendered by her hand
crying because she didn't
understand

How every day
he could walk past it
totally ignoring the subject
How his steps along the hall
didn't make him pause and reflect

He never noticed her demise
in each brush stroke
He never contemplated
how she would choke
As each colour was layered
on a pristine white background
Never noticed, how the vein bled
saturating the white with no sound

He never stopped to stare
or try to straighten the picture
She stopped almost habitually
praying silently a stricture

*Don't let me die tonight
while he never gets my Art...
Let the picture speak
a thousand words
While he stares at my broken heart