Saturday, January 18, 2014

Bleed Black.

The bold she was
higher was the toll of dilemmas
A roll to take over,
the death of her fiance
on the day of their honeymoon in Belgium
when he was shot dead in the room
of red roses and lavender fragrance
around the room

And she was numb
with her neck tilted to the right
frozen in the tune of dolefulness
Scratching herself with the blood in
Black,
Representing the color to mourn
with evil support of it.

She was bleeding anger from her eyes
fretting and lamenting at the time of love
waiting for his anguished soul to wake up
to her voice and react over it.

That sight was skittish
for a lifetime was to not enough
to see the couple depart on such note

While the girl being molested in the
darkness of the time
by butchers of his soul. 

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