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The taste of his smile, the warmth of his stare

The sin of his touch and his soft chocolate hair

But what kills her more than the scent of his essence

Is his lingering thought, the lack of his presence

His absence is noted in her black cheated eyes

As her pale, lifeless body taints the bed where it lies

The victorious knife, chapped with blood, stains her sheets

And her pillows and blankets scream back in defeat

They hunger for heartbeats, not of cold rotting flesh

And a pen leaves spilt ink on the note on the desk

It talks of her life, of its miserable end

And her stories and secrets now make sense to her friends


She wanted a hero, a prince in disguise

He didn’t know she meant it, he thought they were lies

With truth as her sidekick, irony laughs in his face

Since he was the reason she took her life from this place

His failure to see fatal love in her heart

He’d reject her advances; called them drunken remarks

His friendship her best—cohorts second to none

They’d kiss on occasion, labeled: nothing but fun

But she wanted more of this happy escape

Yet she’d date other boys to conquer her fate


He knew she was sad, but couldn’t figure out why

(For he loved her too, beat his own heartbeat’s cries)

She’d run to him always, with eyes full of woe

He assumed she’d want comfort, not his heart forever more

But alas, this last time, she came minutes too late

For her broken heart saw him kiss a girl at the gate

Her soul wrapped in shrouds and heart broken by Boy

She backed away slowly to not spoil his joy


She rushed back to her house; life determined to cease

Ran up the stairs, slit her wrists as relief

Wounds already open, blood poured out as her tears

And from dream to reality became her own darkest fears

Though lightheaded and dizzy, she made her way to her chair

And for the very last time, pulled back her shoulder-length hair

Her words turned to scribbles as sight faded away

She was blinded by tears, liquid crimson, and grays


She set the pen down and stumbled back to her bed

Within seconds of collapsing, her body was dead

Not two minutes later, he ran through the door

Since he did, in fact, see her just moments before

He tried to revive the true love of his life

Staring back at his image in her red blood-chapped knife

He knew in an instant that her feelings were real

And kicked himself twice with regret for their fears

Now alone more than ever, he gazed up above

And though now she is peaceful, he lost his true love


He, at once, backs away as her parents rush in

The thought enters his mind to commit his own deadly sin

With red flashing lights, medics rush to her aid

But alas, “You're too late” laughs the crimson chapped blade

As tears fill his eyes, he mutters “No more,”

He spills all his feelings he learned to ignore

Though hear he she can’t, he still bleeds out his heart

And begins his new life with her fatal depart

He looks one last time at his loverly dead

And walks down the stairs without turning his head


No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get him to see

For my lover, it’s you, and the dead girl, is me.

Created: Apr 22, 2014

Tags: love story, death poetry, sadness and love, poetry

Lindsey Mele Document Media