The Ghosts of my past.

March 3rd, 2009-Murder

As my hands tighten around your neck,

And I hear you gasp for air,

I cry not a single tear, but try to stay strong;

Because you really did not care.

I press my warm lips to your forehead;

Your dead, cold, pale forehead.

I sit and wonder for a moment and silently ask;

“So what’s it like to be dead?”

My deed is finally done now.

As I bury you in the ground.

I wonder what she will say;

When she realizes you’re not around.

But alas; this is a daydream.

For truly, I’d never have the nerve.

Even if you left me with a broken heart;

You’ll never get what you deserve.