Her life was sand, so to speak,

It came undone in just a week,

Ever slipping sands of time,

Slowly reveals his deadly crime,

Best of friends; two of a kind.

Chanced and destined the two did find,

Each other, aside they stood,

Doing their best and all they could.

Oh!  But then came life’s attack,

She was appalled, taken aback,

Just when none could break the two,

The sand, it started slipping through.

For a week, he had no sound,

For a week, the sand fell aground,

Oh so weak was she today,

The week ends, and she wastes away.

He, so strong, his illness hid,

Nothing can stop what he did,

Together, one, for an hour,

The love they had began to sour.

Infected blood, hers to keep,

Her boyfriends last gift made her weep,

Then the fateful week did come,

She paid her life, the costly sum.

Grains of sand felt like stingers,

She slipped away through his fingers,

In a week, she grew old,

In a week, he was left out cold.

He cried out to the doctor’s light,

“oh why did you take her tonight?!”

They looked down on this worthless beetle,

“Why did you use that heroin needle?”

Her sand now covers the beach,

Out of a cell he does reach,

His crime was murder, you see.

Her death was death by HIV.