First Degree

I murdered you.

I made absolutely sure.

I jammed the knife right through

The piece of my heart

In which you had chosen to dwell.

It's alright, I justified,

The act was clearly self-defense,

And I bled you out

Onto the sterile linoleum floor.

 

I took a rag, wet with tears,

And wiped your stain up off the tile.

I cleaned the blade,

Sewed up my chest,

And burned the evidence.

I got up the next morning

And scurried about the day.

I had forgotten you.

I had forgotten.

I had.

 

Now, who comes but another,

Trying his best to pick the lock

Of my heart where you kept your loot.

Slowly, ever slowly,

He clears away your lasting scars

And begins to store there

His own gold and precious treasure.

I hope, yes, I pray,

That I won't have to oust him too.

 

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