Observe

And here, she says
Are the scars, touching
Them gently, rubbing
Her wrists, this where
They put the IV
That where the razor sliced
This what you've caused

He stares forlorn, and
Is he... yes entranced
Almost, with the beautiful
Tragedy, eaten from
The inside with growing guilt,
And perhaps clumsy awe at
The havoc he has wreaked

I stand between the pair
Reduced to no more than
An innocent observer
Gazing at a one dimensional picture
Of what he once was to me
What we could have become
Marred by her desperate act

And I wonder if
I put my ear to his
Chest, right where his
Heart should be
Would I hear only
The dull brush of fabric
Against my fevered cheek.

[Back]