True Story of Love

The days were multicoloured as we lived them, animated as we danced through seconds The flowers cheered and birds proclaimed our love would last, with chirps and orchestrated song from beaks. Marching across the garden, smartly dressed with complimenting colour, bumblebees saluted with their tail-stings. Bluebells, tall and sturdy defied the summer, retaining stance, seagulls flew above on winds in timely dance. The warmth of summer held our bodies tightly as we lay on fields laid out like Christmas wrapping. Our fingers tangoed on the arms of one another, Friction sparked, as kissing we lay crackling. But sun-dance turned to show down scissor ended tongues. From compliment to argument and all emotion, Hung. Friction turned to fighting and the sunlight burned away, the scent of summer passion fruits descended from the height of love to depths of it's decay. It broke me. Ripped away my spine as I was walking, bolt my bolt I heard myself destructing, collapsing in the pools of my demise, from twinkling pearls luscious love, I saw the hatred in your eyes. My wrists were bulging with our memories, your eyes reflected in my veins. Holding up a jaggered razor, in the dark of this stale room, I let it kiss my leathered skin, we spread the floor, inside this tomb.