Got any spare nails for the coffin lid.
Trapped inside as love dies.
Fades away as slit wrists drip.
From here into eternity.
Or maybe to obscurity.

Claret puddle on the floor, just behind the bedroom door.
Will not accept the blame.
For him, he fired the flame.
Broken hearts wrists that broke
Heart running dry.
Wonder why.

Want him not in old oak box.
Nor as a gift to medicine.
The world is hurting.
Wonder why!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)