Over

It can be hard to let go.

I braced myself. Told myself over and over again
I wouldn't cry.

Four words.

Sharper than every goddamn forlorn piece of glass
I should have cut my wrists with long ago.
I have boxes full of painkillers. If only I had taken enough
to end this crucification, now and forever.

Bloody red wine fails me.
Vodka. Whiskey. Drown my heart.
Agressy. I'd rape if I could.
Murder with these bare hands
which made you moan.

No manmade prison can ever be worse
than this gruesome reality -
f**k me as you always did
and don't worry about the blood on the sheets
as I slit my throat.

You condemned me to the gutter
and in the gutter I belong.

Reviews

[Rosalie Barrows]

I love how you could feel the emotion in this piece. I love how most of your writing its like a theme to it. This is really good I started to cry reading it lol. O man this was so good. I can't wait to read more of your work. I think I need a tissue.

Keep up the good work and keep on writing.


Laura

[Eagle Cruagh]

What a sad and melancholy story.
I am struck with the recurring thought that
the writer repeats the error that is so often told,
investing the object of their love with power and
features that no person actually holds.
Although a very tragic story, it holds the reader to
the end.
Try to write more. Write uplifting, shining stories and
your life may follow suit.
---- Eagle Cruagh