Black is the Colour of Love

Do you remember her?
The girl you left
Alone in the rain...
The one you left
To fall from grace...
Her heart,
Unsteady.
Her strength,
Weak.
A young girl
On her own
Not sure where to go
Who to rely on,
She discovered a new friend –
Pain.
Every night in her room,
She'd draw the blood;
Watch her skin soaked

Red.

The puddle of crimson
Surrounded her
As she struggled to muster life,
And a tiny bit of hope,
But the latter was denied.
She hid the scars constantly,
Not confiding in anyone
Except her blade which seemed
Her one true friend.

Her bloody obsession continued,
Growing stronger and stronger
Each day.
The more she waited for your return,
The darker her blood grew,
Until it had reached its darkest,
Black.

The last night of her wait,
She wrote you a note
With a single word,
'Love.'
Slowly, she slid the blade across her wrist,
Puncturing as deeply as possible,
Blood pouring profusely,
Black soaking her arm.
She lay on the floor,
Accepting her departure
As the Angel of Death
Picked her last petal.
For she could not wait any longer
For her tourniquet,
Her tourniquet

Of love.




Poetry by lexie
Read 589 times
Written on 2008-06-29 at 05:52

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