Her pain was felt deep inside.
From herself she tried to hide.
That night in the mirror wishing to be saved.
Taking her thoughts and love to the grave.
Shattered shards of her reflected life lay cold and still.
Clenched in her fist her final letter and one last pill.
The look in her eyes seemed as though she was still alive.
Though the papers show her death was a quarter to nine.
Her lips blue but still passionately blushed with red lipstick.
Pale skin like a vampire, her lifeless lips I wished to kiss.
A tilt of my head as I was taking just the perfect picture.
The taste on my tongue was if I had just licked her.
Curiously and carefully examining the broken glass .
Like watching a slow moving movie production of her past.
I can’t help but look at more of these shards of memories.
I want that passion and love, that look for eternity.
In the corner the darkest piece of glass, almost a jet black.
I Stare into it and feel her pain and suffering and just like that.
I lay on the floor, my bleeding wrists resting on hers.
Together my love in Hell our souls shall forever burn.