Skip to main content

Good Things Come In Threes (or that one time I wrote a poem about murder)

The first time you died was when you met her
You came home and I saw the light in your eyes
My smile is fixed as you describe her work
And I could feel the fires of your love for me die

I did not weep until you'd gone, my tears saved for the next day


The second time you died was with her in the car
The crash, then the funeral, you stood; a shell
You died a death inside, and I knew if you could
You would swap us around and send me to hell

I did not weep till late at night, but my love for you would stay

The third time you died there was nothing for me
We had such hopes, I recall as my hands tightened
A necklace of the dust of my love gave you a blue blush
Your last death was mine and I found myself enlightened

I did not weep for you, my love, I just let you fade away

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Bric-A-Brac

If for all the hopes and wishes In my heart I had A button or a bead then I'd be just like an old lady living alone With a tin that used to contain chocolate Crammed full Up to the brim with what once had been Useful, bright and ready to be used Now just fragments Reminders of what plans I'd made Rattling around Until I pass away and to anyone else They're nothing Meaningless oddments to throw in the bin

Family get-together (and getaway as quickly as possible)

It's the family Christmas party And everyone's gathered around A chance to praise the family smarties The rest go drink another round My great aunt's still talking, droning on Showing no signs of wearying or dropping The babies start screaming, one by one Shushed by mums, but not completely stopping Eyeing up games, not monopoly, we're not mad Even my Nana's sneaked out back for a fag The food's been scoffed, mostly by my dad We've been here an hour, it feels like a drag At last I remember, as I'm on my umpteenth beer This is why we go through this just the once a year

I have no excuse, I was very depressed when I wrote this

I'm bleeding on the dance floor But the band keeps playing on And the dancers keep on twirling As their shoe soles turn crimson My blood type's AB positive              And I'm positively sure                         I wish the only blood that's spilling  Would be mine across this floor My eyes drift close, I'm failing           The band's melody begins to waver And the dancers dance more slowly    To this new melancholy flavour My lady beckons me closer                My cheek rests on the sticky floor    She's finally come to collect me          And set me free from this life's chore Yet my heart does not feel joyous    Only sorrow has made it crack     Though all awaits me is more pain      I'll give anything to go back This is how this chapter ends But there’s still more here to write I’ll pick myself up off this floor    This novel won’t end tonight I'm bleeding on the dance floor And