I look at you and I see sunsets and fireworks
But the mirror says otherwise.
Cold and harsh your prints are left :
On my back, stomach, neck,
Where you use to kiss me.
The soft skin, now bruised with your hand prints from last, night.
Yet you touch me, I wish you didn’t.
You lay your head on my pillow, sleeping soundlessly.
Tear marks across your face.
You do not stir as I look in the mirror once again.
Marks on my wrists from where you held me a few hours ago.
The wedding ring, you gave me, catching my eye.
The way you held me that night.
Love in you heart, gentleness in you hands as you carried me.
But the mirror doesn’t lie.
I look into that face once again
The man that took me dancing no longer visible.
There would be no more twirling or spinning or falling.
So I crawled back into bed,
The broken Lady resurfacing
So I picked up the knife and held it over your heart.
You finally said my name, no more than a prayer on your lips.