Slowly dripping to the floor,
A warm red flowing from my wrist,
Seeping under the bathroom door,
I look back once on my faithful list.
The promises I have made,
A list of promises,
All broken tonight,
And I stare into what is out of sight.
So clear are your eyes now,
Glistening in the darkness,
I know you’re not here,
But I can see your face so clearly.
I see you blow me a kiss,
As my arm becomes faint,
I try to think of bliss,
But I’m nothing like a saint.
I’ve done nothing good here,
As my blood flows around the room,
I’ve taken the easy way out of fear,
And this can hardly be considered doom.
But still I see your eyes,
Showing all that is lost,
All the pain I have caused.
I have done nothing good here,
And I’m so sorry dear.

by James Harradine

Other poems of HARRADINE (34)

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