The Blame

Short, freestyle.

I never pictured my ending to be like this,
Scrolled out over the floor and death by the way of infatuation,
I pictured my end in a house...paid for , my hair grey with peace and wisdom in my heart,
Instead I’ve come to a rather quick undoing and the blame is all his,
He captured me in my private moments and drug me down to his layer of bad intentions,
There he met me with a force so strong I screamed out in agony with the first blow,
Funny, You’d think most women would hate that sort of thing.

- Shae H.

Reviews

[jimmy45]

You're a great writer
Great description
Very nice

[Shae]

Thank you !

[jacob erin-cilberto]

oh this is so cool...like infatuation is much like suicide...
and often infatuations don't last...but they can be awfully detrimental...

i like your confessional style...and how you float nicely in free verse.

[Shae]

:-) Thank you !

[Mayank]

Sweet. Infatuation kills. The way it is described in freestyle make it intriguing.

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the freestyle thoughts. Some places we enjoy become a place we don't mind being in. Not a prison but a place to feel alive. Thank you Shae for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[sinNsincerity]

Hmm, very interesting...
I like it.

[Willard Wells]

Woman damaged by love I guess would be the name of this game. But this sounds like a very physical pain. Sad but true writing . Thanks for sharing