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Standing… a bowed head
Making a mental connection with the angry, freshly upturned dirt
Wishing this pain would stop stabbing at her heart
Looks down at the cold, empty coffin
Covered with cobwebs and lost dreams
Holding a single, solitary, white rose in her forefingers,
She drops it on the ground and turns away silently
Turns away from his love for her… that he has walked out on long ago.
©2005-2009 ~AmnivaIsMyBiatch
:iconamnivaismybiatch:

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poem for english

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February 24, 2005
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