What Have You Done
Unraveling threads of a desperately mending heart, I cry out “What have you done!” weighed down with shame, with untamed grief the anchors attached around my quivering feet.
Scornfully you mock my pain your heartless blacked eyes clanging at my blood drenched hands, nails layered with burgundy.
Thou paled and anguished, scorned and abused these tiny fingers frantically gather the broken shards that where you. With each slight hurt and every cold and calculated word the jagged glass drew crimson streams.
“What have you done!”
With love so bright, a luminescent beam of pure serenity I know mourn.
No longer a lover or friend, forever a foe a minis to my rapidly beating heart.
Even though I stand laced up in cold metal chains, I pity you, pity with no end, casting my regret to the changing wind.
Tears, I’ll drowned myself in dying sorrow, the kind that never ends.
Simplicity of burden that is all I gain.
Trembling blushed hands, heavily wounded pride, even the department of faith is the love token you bestowed unto me. Now, snicker with accomplishment.
But behind these tear filled blue eyes my soul still flies.
You can only cross me, vex me, and wound me so many countless times.
New faith will be received over time, pink thread will lace the torn partials of an aching heart, and the love from even a stranger will triumph over ever pain, clotting the wounds you inscribed on my skin.
Exciting anticipation, what an unexpected thing!
The account of you a memory now in my life’s ledger, A blank page layered with your name.
A memorial for when in love you should never have to utter, “What have you done.”
Copyright © Whitney Hart | Year Posted 2012
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