You Or the Grave

It’s you or the grave.
There is no bittersweet remembrance, only a coffin suited to my form,
what once you called beautiful, and embraced,
There are no farewell tears upon my face, only tears through my perforated heart--
What you once would have held is now drenched in red.

What could be said to change your mind?
That to never see your face again is the same as seeing nothing,
That to never hear your voice again is a constant death knell--

No, you wouldn’t have believed it if I said it,
not until you overheard one day that I was buried.
As my heart was, the moment you left.

You wouldn’t believe me, so there I fell,
into the cold abyss that was my home before you found me,

lifted me into a warm cocoon such as I never felt,

now dropped like a distasteful thing.

Makes me wonder, did my taste displease you?
I was always fond of the ugly things, and you still said you loved me;
I was always made of poison, and you still likened me to ambrosia.

Here we are, between you and a grave.
I have done all I can to keep you, left with these pyre of words,
what once you would have heard and cherished--
I have said all I could say to change your mind, only to fail,
where once you would have obeyed easily--

What could be done to change my mind?
Find someone else, so every time I see them smile I remember yours,
Find anyone else, so every time we touch I would pine for yours--

No, I never believed it when you said it,
because without you I have nothing.
As alone as before, now that you’ve left.

You wouldn’t have me, so here it ends,
with a grave big enough for half a person, as if you’d never met me,
embraced me until I was whole alongside you,
now cut off like a gangrenous leg.

All I had, I gave.
It’s you or the grave.

Author's Note

I hope I captured the feeling well enough. Let me know what you think.