The smooth marble surface reflects her tears,
hot drops of molten indignation.
She does not care that her logic is flawed
only that she has a vessel in which
to pour her endless tide of sorrows.
The chosen path is not by design,
more the one of least resistance,
the easy target, the obvious option,
the problem viewed through her rose whine
simplifying the situation to a clear cut end –
the sacrifice turned deaf by love
her blood the only part not tied,
lulled into a false sense of security,
yet deep within her instincts scream
a warning of the impending danger.
She walks to the step willingly
places her cheek on the cold stone.
I close my eyes at the last moment
not wishing to see the blade
as it slices through my soul.
Linked to OpenLinkNight http://dversepoets.com/ on 22/11/11