Lovers SpatA Poem by David Lewis PagetShe turned up here on my doorstep Completely out of the blue, She didn’t say where she was coming from Or where she was going to, She carried a single paperback And I think it carried his name, I tried to see, but she held it back, The book had a title, ‘Shame!’ I should have been warned by that single word And barred the girl at the door, She didn’t say, or I never heard Just what she was looking for, She stepped inside, and pushed me away And walked with a silent tread, Along the hall where the stairway lay And muttered just one word, ‘Bed’. She found the room on the upper floor That saw the occasional guest, With a single bed and a counterpane And a walnut, inlaid chest. She went to bed and she fell asleep Nor even kicked off a shoe, I stood perplexed on the landing there Not knowing what I should do. I waited for her till she awoke Then headed her off at the stairs, ‘What did you mean by coming here Our guests are often in pairs.’ ‘I meant to challenge your friend, my ex, He left me mired in pain, You well should know him, his name is Rex, He wrote this novel called ‘Shame!’ Then Rex had entered and faced the stair And she rushed into his arms, If I’d known better, or been aware I might have raised the alarm. The book flew open, revealed a knife Secreted into its pages, And she had stabbed him, not once, but twice Revealing one of her rages. Rex was lying so still, and cold We held her down on the floor there, ‘Are you quite crazy,’ I tried to scold, But she had cut her own throat there. A pool of blood spread across the floor And mingled there from the lovers, I swore right then I would bolt my door Deny all entry to others. David Lewis Paget
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8 Reviews Added on August 30, 2016 Last Updated on August 30, 2016 Author
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