deepundergroundpoetry.com
Not Worth Dying For
I still mourn the man taken too soon
While making his way to my side
We were wild and reckless
Drunk on endless rivers of beer and love
But that is what made us
He pulled up in his yellow mustang
The roar of his muffler was my favorite sound
Roses of yellow and orange in his hand
To remind me I was his and he was mine
We were magnetic
The night was quiet as I lay in his bed alone
Waiting for the phone to ring
Watching for him to come through the door
But the highway had different plans
And I was left empty
As he took his last breath did he regret taking the ride?
Did he whisper my name? Was he afraid to die?
The guilt eats at me from the inside out
A beautiful life snuffed out like a flame
I was not worth dying for
While making his way to my side
We were wild and reckless
Drunk on endless rivers of beer and love
But that is what made us
He pulled up in his yellow mustang
The roar of his muffler was my favorite sound
Roses of yellow and orange in his hand
To remind me I was his and he was mine
We were magnetic
The night was quiet as I lay in his bed alone
Waiting for the phone to ring
Watching for him to come through the door
But the highway had different plans
And I was left empty
As he took his last breath did he regret taking the ride?
Did he whisper my name? Was he afraid to die?
The guilt eats at me from the inside out
A beautiful life snuffed out like a flame
I was not worth dying for
Published 1st Feb 2018
Author's Note
I would appreciate any constructive criticism offered. I have dabbled in poetry on and off throughout the years but I would really like to get serious now. This is the first of my attempts to express a very painful memory.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
2nd Feb 2018 8:31pm
This is a hard subject to comment on,
but I will offer this, and you can decide
the value of my words.
My mother died similarly while
taking lunch to my father. He thought
as you until someone pointed out she
did not die for, or because of him, but
rather while doing something she loved to do.
To those who love us, we are all worth
dying for, and the best we can hope for
is it never has to be proven.
As for "Honest Critique", to me, the way someone
choses to express grief, is not open to opinions.
Please accept my condolences for your loss.
AT
but I will offer this, and you can decide
the value of my words.
My mother died similarly while
taking lunch to my father. He thought
as you until someone pointed out she
did not die for, or because of him, but
rather while doing something she loved to do.
To those who love us, we are all worth
dying for, and the best we can hope for
is it never has to be proven.
As for "Honest Critique", to me, the way someone
choses to express grief, is not open to opinions.
Please accept my condolences for your loss.
AT
2nd Feb 2018 10:01pm
