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Her Tomb
There her tomb lay, drunken, hollow, shameful, and alone…
She lay with arms shown, crowed with royal deception…
Credence of the lamb that has never grown too old…
So cold, I lay with no one but my thoughts…
Caught I sit, restless with nothing to deserve…
No matter how deep, she is never coming back…
I’m sorry honey, but the blood made me weak…
Sickle comes upon my face, wasted I must rest…
Today I have nothing, but tomorrow I shall detest…
Her voice waits, calling upon my every move…
I wait lonely, hoping she will soon…
Forget all the mistakes, everything she had grown…
But until then, my love, rest with nothing…
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