A Faded Blue Door
I used to feel so much.
Now I only feel the cold concrete beneath my feet.
As I stand on this quiet and empty street.
A house stands in front of me.
A home is what it used to be.
With its faded blue door which never did shut right.

Holes in the walls, where bricks used to be.
And standing in the yard an old cheery tree.
It used to be fruitful, now withered and dead.
Under that same tree you made a promise to me,
then carried me upstairs into our warm queen bed.

That same bed where you silently slept,
And I stayed awake as you snored, but I wept.
A promise is a promise, but the promise you never kept.
I hope she felt like silk on your skin,
While trickles of tears sailed down my chin.

An antique bathtub stands proud in the bathroom.
Rusted away, and stained with my blood.
I once filled it with water until it started to flood.
I drowned my sorrows, and vanquished my gloom.

A rickety old porch now crumbling away,
Is the place where I sit day to day.
Pondering, will this ever go away?
Am I doomed  to spend the rest of my life,
As a wandering, sad, old spirit wife?