The Story Forgotten

September 30, 2010
The quiver of her lips as he tells her goodbye,
The fall of her tears as she whispers "why?"
The turn of the knob as he opens the door,
The thud of her knees as she falls to the floor.
The tap of his shoes as he leaves her alone,
The thrum of her heart, the sound of her moans.
The echo of screams, of far away cries,
The sound of her breath, near the ground where she lies.
The pound of steps as they race down the halls,
The creak of wood as she hears deperate calls.
The fear in her heart as she sprints down the stairs,
The dread of what she might find there.
The drip of blood as she covers her eyes,
The body on the floor, where he now dies.
The hate in her voice as she screams to all,
"The higher they soar, the farther they fall"
The sound of sobs as she lays that night,
The whispered prayers that it might be all right.
The truth she knows is that this is the end,
The truth she fears is that she'll mend.
The word forget brings pain that's eternal,
The thought that he's gone, forever, terminal.
The constent tick of the clock overhead,
The ruffle of sheets as she writhes in her bed.
The scratch of the pen as she gives up on sleep,
The fightful words in the diary she keeps.
"The day is over, yet it feels just the same,
The pain is still torture, I still know his name.
The days might pass but I'm trapped by this life,
The poor little girl, the widowed wife."

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback