I could write the words he spoke.

But they might burn the page.

If letters could capture tone,

They certainly would.

He wished me dead.

This I cannot doubt.

His words were scorching fires and lost raging ends of time.

They bit and burned,

They cling like Napalm.

Eating the flesh of my heart

Beating weakly

Skipping

Tripping

Slowly.

Pretending life

When life has long since passed from the body.

Pretend if you will heart,

But reality I must admit

Giving in.

I finish the work he began.

A quick shot.

A final shot.

Keep out of reach of children.

What qualifies a child?

Keyword: what qualifies a child?

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Comments (3)

Posted by lemon 2008-05-30 23:32:32 .... nice job. I liked it a lot. keep posting :) + Report this comment
Posted by chaabuk 2008-07-24 01:58:51 .... There is so much sorrow and despair in this poem. Two hearts moving in diametrically oposite direction and the woman trying to make something of it. This one is too sad. + Report this comment
Posted by Kasi elaborated 2008-07-28 14:17:07 .... intense. + Report this comment

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