The blade

This desolating notion,
This Pressing thought,
This dreadful rememberance,
In my mind will rot.

A wonderful blessing,
A dreaded curse,
I'm not far from,
A ride in a hearse.

Your memory remains,
After too much to drink,
Without you here,
All I do is think.

Whats this,
Something calling my name,
So sharp and unforgiving,
The blade.

I raise it,
Tears in my Eyes,
Put it to my wrist,
Inside me happiness dies.

Deeper goes its edge,
I carve your name,
With the last letter,
I end this game.

Here I will lye,
Lifeless on the floor,
Until some one who cares,
Comes knocking on my door.