Sunday Afternoon

It was a depressing Sunday afternoon,

I longed for the precious nights spent under the moon

Watching the tide rush in on the sand

I stood there and grasped her soft hand

Oh how tiny her fingers- I held in mine

her physique so frail with a prickly spine

her hair lacked luster , it was long and thin

but to me she was my drug, the ultimate sin

how I loved her and miss her sweet smell

when I will see her again, I can’t tell

so I sit here on this dreadful Sunday

the rain taps hard on the window pane

my mind runs thinking of her,

I will soon go insane

I glanced over at the corridor leading to the trap

Placed on my Clark’s and my old wool cap

Walked toward the shed where I put her remains

It’s so terrible that things won’t ever be the same

I unlocked the old shed door, walked down the creaking stairs

Pushed away cob webs that clung to my hair

The scent of rotting flesh engulfed my nostrils quickly

The thought of leaving this underground shed came to me swiftly

I needed the closure to be sure she was dead

Her voice played over and over in my head

I pushed away old paint cans, and clutter in the shed

Opened the trap door and out she fell

Her corpse, her body, her rotting shell

I wanted to kiss her sweet remains

But instead shoved her back in enclosure to be contained

The anger engulfed me, it was all her fault

Our love was to be impenetrable like the Swiss bank vault

She betrayed me and lye naked in bed

With the normal good looking neighbor instead

I trusted her to only be misconstrued and betrayed

With the rich man is who she laid

 for the last time it was for her  indeed

And for him a watery grave at sea

On to the next love of my heart I shall search

And for the reader beware of love, I still lurk