Her Blood-Red Eyes

The Actor

-Hamlet

Madness, utter and complete madness.
Gibber, squeak and the floorboards creak under the weight of the river the meets the wild flowers, by the creek.

Tears stream from my eyes,
Enough to keep her afloat
In her little flower-encrusted boat.
Face-down in the water.
Sun-kissed hair,
Waterlogged.
The cruel master river
Dragging my sweet rose to his vile lair.

And all the while I stay here.
On top of my father's castle
Breathing in the sweet air.

But how was I to know that
I was breathing greedily, gulping her last gasping breath?

These what-ifs burn on the insides of my retinas,".
My father, the river, could I have done better?
No.

I loved her and I left her
Wh n she needed me most.
When her good name was slandered and she had to be deaf to it all, deaf as a post.

And now her death is called a shame, a tragedy, a calamity
That could have been prevented if her husband to be had been,
More attentive
More supportive
More.
Then behind our back mocked us all.
I guess I'm not the only actor anymore.