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Poem

Now picking up the pieces, 
From a heart full of bruises 
Dementia, pain and depression, 
Saturate my heart extension. 
  
She was a walking rainbow, 
I saw when the sun went low. 
She was a rare specie around town, 
Which I did not realize until now. 
  
Just like a sugary fleeting vine, 
Made she my life a tasteless wine. 
Every night I sit and ask the moon, 
Why did she have to leave so soon. 
  
I wish I could turn back the clock to gain; 
Her, I will be willing to take a bullet, through my brain.

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