i remember when we met. i remember thinking we’d be t o g e t h e r. i hoped we’d at least stay friends…but everything always comes to an end (and i hate life for that – some things should be meant to last). he use to make me smile and laugh. now all i can think about is the pain he caused me (what did i ever do?). i know that at some point he cared. whether he had cared a lot or a little or how long he had cared, i don’t know. i just wanted an apology…instead it all came to a close. here is our story:

Suicide after Murder

beauty broken upon the scene
he was lying there
on the ground
as the rain fell down
on all of us.

in the middle of the
‘sanctuary’
i had brought a gun
and shot him
because I loved ( ) him

everyone looked at
me as if i were a
freak. psycho.
‘how could she have done that?’
they ask themselves
too afraid to move
(afraid that i might impale the bullet into them)

i’ll tell you how:
he pretended to care
((about me))
and at the same time
he drew all these
((crooked, straight, beautiful))
lines on my wrist
((baby, let me tell you that the star is just for you))

i can hear the
ambulance and
police (miles away)

walking up to where he
was sprawled out on the
soaking ground
they all back away
(as if i carry a
disease)

the black trench coat
(that i used to cover
the scars) got soaked
and muddy as i fell
down to my knees
next to him

staring at his frozen
eyes ((oh, look how they
watch me closely))

‘i destroyed myself
for you’, i hiss into
his ear. i pull off the coat
showing my bare arms
to him, ‘this was all for you
and you didn’t a appreciate a
single scar!’

though i know it’s
no use showing him the scars now
(that he is dead)

just as pathetic
as showing him
the scars – i hit
his beautiful face

‘did you ever love me?’
i whisper into his ear
wishing for an answer
i know i’ll
never get

i feel a second
wetness on my face.
it is not the rain.

tears are running
down my face
i’m crying (i hate tears)
because of him.

i put my head to
his chest –
listening for a
fragile heartbeat
but as i knew –
i undeniably destroyed him
(as he did me)

i thought it would
make me happy
to see him bleeding
because of me
just as i had
bled because of him

i’m sobbing into
his shirt, now
‘what have
i done?’

i hated you
(and loved you)
but i did(n’t)
want it to end…
not like this…

thrusting my fist
into the ground
i find the gun
there was one
bullet left

i got back and kiss
his forehead
‘i’m sorry. you
know how i feel, but
at least you’ll be
in heaven.’

i raise the gun
to my head i
hear them gasping
(as if they wished
i wouldn’t do it)

my dark eyes
black hair
dark skin
(ugly) beauty he
never cared for

‘i’ll watch you from
Hell, because i know
God would never
let such an ugly
vampire/monster, like me
enter, Heaven.’

i whisper my last
few words and
ask for forgiveness
i know i will not get

finally – i pull the trigger
in less than a split
second the bullet
enters and impales
my brain – shutting
everything down.

i am dead.
he is dead.
in the end it all came
down to this
so why
does it matter what
we use to be?

May 16, 2006

P.S. This is how I became Annaece’s Forsaken Corpse

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note: i’m sorry about the length, but i actually really like this piece (thank you if you read it all the way through). i think it’s one of my best. i wrote it at night and that’s when i usually get some inspiration. please review. reviews make me happy and let me know that someone reads what i write.