Extinguished

There is a broken soul living here... Within these dusty off-white walls – There is a breathing ghost, with sputtering candles for eyes And a suit of slowly decaying flesh Clothing her splintered bones... There is a terminal patient sitting here, On this ignominious chair, legs crossed, One foot dangling, toenails painted a hart’s blood red... Her fingers tapping her death knell on the table, Dancing over the coffee stains... There is a condemned inmate reclining here... On the skids, savouring death row, She is courting her demise with the candour And low self esteem, of a seasoned flirt – With that deadened mask-like smile... Her nerve endings blunted and firing off malfunctioning sparks She has no hope – forgot the meaning of the word years ago In its place lies a gentle coffin of mourning... Resting where joy should be, in a dirt-filled hole, A grave for her sins... And strewn on the fresh turned earth, her heart - An empty locket, scratched and tarnished by the claw-marks, By the spattered venom, of dead and dying loves... Of her soul’s final throes, before the darkness flooded in – And blew out the tenuous flames Of those two guttering candles