the wine has spilt
a crimson flow.
watch it swirl
down darkest trough.
a fading essence;
a fleeting sound,
escapes the silence
in darkness bound.
gentle trickle
red river ebbs
fate so fickle
caught in its web.
stand alone
in dimming light
no time left to atone
and make it right.

---

A/N: I have inwardly dubbed this my "suicide poem"... written during one of the most painful experiences I've had to live through... I've read it over and over again and honestly find it depressingly beautiful... I have many poems that are untitled, but usually because I can't come up with a title... this one however, I purposefully avoided titling because I never wanted to give that moment a name, for fear that that would give it power over me again...