I don't read,
because you took my eyes,
with well thought lies,
you dug at my heart like something you despise,

Darling, I could have called, you
underneath the blood you hated and so spewed,
darling, my darling, my blood curdling darling,

Can you see me, or hear me,
am I still breathing, I think
I am thinking, and maybe I am smiling,

Thought I'd take you for miles,
or walk them endlessly,
but the dirt and six feet is in what you envelope me,

Final letters written without a care,
I see your back, and I am either dead,
or I stare.