Our Last Time

Our Last Time

A Poem by Cat

A 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


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Added on August 7, 2015
Last Updated on August 7, 2015
Tags: death, suicide, love