Low

Thursday morning at 8 o’clock
And his day begins.
Brushes his teeth
And goes downstairs,
Knowing there’s nobody there.
He stares into the mirror,
And combs his hair
In the early light.
Try’s to remember what
Happened last night.
His mind sees a face,
Pretty enough.
She left quite early,
Leaving no trace.
Said she would call,
Knowing she wouldn’t.
He said the same,
Knowing he couldn’t.
He sat back,
Thought,
What his life had become?
Since she left him.
His love was not welcome
Anymore.
There was no mystery.
Self-inflicted wounds
Leave scars,
As the white bars
On his forearms would testify.
He remembered a song
They both loved,
Particularly when mashed.
One line stood strong…
“and you bleed just know your alive”.
He picked up a knife,
And slashed.

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