Friday, September 28, 2012

The First Cut

Broken glass
Rusty nails
Your lies spoken
The tall tales
Believing you could change
Knowing you would not
The women who left
Quietly in the night
Their perfume
Still lingering
While I
Gasped for air
Remembering
The stillness
Of the room
My breath
The anger
Consuming me
Leaving me
To ache for what
Will never be