from day one he held her fragile hand
tugged her along the cliff's edge
watched her through even the longest of days
or peered throughout the green garden's hedge
he tugged a bit harder the older she got
until her skin drooped like elastic torn apart
fed her alcohol like a bottle to a baby
popped her pills till it paused her heart
As he'd comb his hands though her soft brown hair
streaks of gray followed the strands he once brushed
he'd press his black lips on her sun spotted cheeks
and place a rotten finger over her mouth whispering, "hush"
he tugged her night gown once more in the rocking chair
as wind from the open window brushed by with a chill
he held the jagged dagger up to her neck
although his intention was not to ****
as he sliced her open, the scythe hit the ground
her eyes of glass finally stood still
he brushed her hair behind her ear and whisperd
"i promise, my intention was not to ****."
They walked away from the old rocking chair
hand in hand like it was from the start
because although life gives you your pulse
the reaper steals your beating heart