Seven Saturdays of severed hearts
Sweet scented sorrow
Trickles down my cheek
As I struggle through tomorrow
To face another week
Seven Saturdays of solitude
The futility of begging
Has brought me to my knees
The disappointed monotony
Of saying �pretty please�
Seven days of silence
Sheer stockings of serenity
Ripping quietly
Used condoms in the dustbin
Rotting noisily
Seven Saturdays of suffering
A bracelet of bruises
Encircles my arm
In bloodlust I hearken
To your quaking charm
Seven days of separation
Now, my love, there is
But six to go.

© Cat Conroy