Our Last TimeA Poem by CatA phenomenon, isn't it? To die so suddenly without a fit. To wish so courageously to end your life. To finally take hold of that chopping knife. I remember it clearly. The room I loved so dearly. Now covered in red and regret I know I cannot fathom it yet. The truths I was once told, about love and life and growing old, and that cup from which you would drink, lies there empty, soulless on the sink. No, I won't clean out your drawers what's mine has always been yours. And on that accord I leave forever. I'll tell them "it was nothing," and you were only an endeavor.
© 2015 Cat |
Author
|