The day my lover died,
the room painted in red.
What was once love; love-deprived.
Colorful memories broken into fragments of red.
Gun pointing at me, emotions freed
My lips; sing the song we once sang.
Nerves twitched and muscles spreed.
Silence responded after a loud bang.
You died in my heart the day you walked away.
And I've never believe in reincarnation
So don't come back saying 'I am sorry'
The day my love died; memories now imagination.
The day my lover died.
What was once love; love-deprived.
- Wesley West
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 8:49 AM UTC
The day my lover died,
the room painted in red.
What was once love; love-deprived.
Colorful memories broken into fragments of red.
Gun pointing at me, emotions freed
My lips; sing the song we once sang.
Nerves twitched and muscles spreed.
Silence responded after a loud bang.
You died in my heart the day you walked away.
And I've never believe in reincarnation
So don't come back saying 'I am sorry'
The day my love died; memories now imagination.
The day my lover died.
What was once love; love-deprived.
- Wesley West
My poems reminds me of my pain. But those are past long ago now. What remains are these carvings.