Print

Your Grave!

Broken love is like a death, it steals a big chunk of your heart.
I have no fear anymore, my heart has hardened,
I no longer listen to your accusations,
It's your own guilt that triggered these thoughts,
It's your own truth that darkens your heart.

You've hurt me too much of late for me to care,
About the torment that plays on every nerve,
You dug your own grave, it's your turn to die,
I'll no longer suffocate under your lies.

My heart still beats with life, but only just,
As my memories sail by like distant ships,
Fleeting images of a long-lost happiness,
I glimpse a smile, so distant in my memories.

If I could, I'd reach out and bring it back,
Then maybe I could show you what you've lost,
But then, that would be more than you deserve,
It's you who put our love into the grave.

A wreath of blackened roses will help you mourn,
When your foolishness sets in after I'm gone,
As crimson tears of blood roll down your cheeks,
Maybe then you'll feel the pain you've given me.

My tears no longer flow I'm lost for caring,
The numbness of my mind is so alluring,
It dulls the painful agony of my broken heart,
As it lies in your grave with the cold dirt.

You dug the grave, you may as well fill it in,
With all the love you leased to melancholy sin,
Put the broken shackles of our love in there too,
And let my soul fly away with the dove to pastures new.
By
Published: 6/30/2010
Bouquets and Brickbats | What Others Said