You lie to me and tell me that you love me while I bleed my souls blood from a broken heart.
I hear your laughter far away like the long lost memory of a winter fire crackle from long ago.
As I lay here in this bed like ashes I dream of bitter rays of hope.
Forget-Me-Nots wither under times cruel stare and ghosts of dead promises weap in their razor wire cage.
Drifting between bleary eyed wakefullness and the void of slumber no one hears my my sobs, not even me.
I awake drowning in the salty taste of sorrow, your picture mocking me from its perch.
A hush, forboding and still, fills the air as I meet your eyes dead and vacant from the framed image, with a word I banish you and the pain your poisoned love caused.
A whispered goodbye and your picture tumbles down, glass shattering like dreams, each piece reflects your promise, broken.
My heart mends as I break the death grip that you held on my heart, squeezing until pulp.
Healed, my laughter slices the silence, and my face knows a smile once more.

all text Copyright Cary Preston Richards, 1999