Slowly, gently whispered,
Like nibblings against my earlobe;
My soul came apart shred by shred,
Letting your words rattle.
Hope is ahead, I could touch it,
Almost, softly, before I fall back down;
Into the abyss unlit,
And its murky waters I drown.
In my mind the messy dinner scene,
The shattered wineglasses and mirrors,
Replayed itself like a nightmare;
And I can still hear her cries.
Copyright © thearcticstar 2016