Fingers crossed turned to fingers being pointed.
Pointed, like a piping hot barrel of a shotgun, with another bullet itching to inch closer  
The world had turned.
My world has turned.
Thrown aside for being bruised and damaged
The apple of my eye is now rotting away

.

Melting away in the past
What was, what I have lost
Tears form thoughts
Thoughts bring tears
Black and white vintage
No happy endings
What could have been
Your smile etched
Pain driven vacancy
Wondering answers mount
Dancing alone forever
Caught in my own web
Waving goodbye to shadows
The end has come
Blowing kisses on the wind
Finality penned
In soon forgotten ink
Too many sorrys
From these lips
Eternal frowns
Curving end of days
Nothing lasts
Finding one word
Can change everything
As the "and" is now gone
between
You
Me

.

Do unto others
as you’d have them do
Such an old saying
it’s not something new

Then why do we fight
calling each other names
Pointing our fingers
and casting the blame

Looking for wrong
when there is so much right
Walking in darkness
ignoring the light

Talking behind
somebody else’s back
Laughing at problems
or things that they lack

Making them feel
like they’re nothing at all
Hiding our hands
if they happen to fall

Locking the door
when they’re out in the rain
Wearing a smile
when they’re crying in pain

If we all try
we can turn this around
Open your heart
so the love can be found

It would be easy
you know that it’s true
Do unto others
as you’d have them do

someone's in the next room over
having *** while we
are weeping
what a way to mark the occasion
the day my fingers found a wound
you let someone else doctor
it's upsetting see
the bible in drawer next to us
the way our hands still
fit together
like the torn halves
of a love letter
the way you got
all dressed up like the rain
and how we couldn't tell
the difference in the shower
it was the longest hour and a half
spent crying
the hot water wouldn't give up
so why should we
right?
even though it was scalding
neither of us touched the ****
we knew this was supposed to hurt
your hair
a black mess against my shoulder
my fingers
oil in the vinegar of your hands
our bodies
the great divide
all the sobbing
a river runs through it
without the courage
to carry or **** us
so we step out
and drip dry
down to a mute breakfast
composed of quiet
and last nights liquor
as we came back in
there were people in our room
at first i thought them detectives
dissecting things
to see who had died here
i had forgotten this
was a hotel
and they were only
cleaning up after us
i wanted to stop them
plead
that the sheets were still perfect
that if they clean the bathroom
no one will know
what happened here
someone has to remember
"please
i know
these cigarette burns
by name
i will bury the faucet
let me take the tub
i don't care how
if i have to
i will drag it home by hand"

Tiny Tree frog stuck to the window , looking quite philosophical , working algorithms while waiting on supper , keeping to yourself quite repose and educated , playing mind games with Mayflies till your hunger is satiated* ...