Crimson drops on porcelain tiles
Tear stained tracks she rode on for miles
Conjuring nightmares stole her days
He left and yet the darkness stayed
The sparks they gave did not ignite
An inward peace which was her plight
Pills, though many, would not oblige
To cease the moon caught in her eyes
Negatives of what might have been
Hued tragic Shakespearean scene
In crawlspace she once more retreats
Red stretcher glides... snow underneath
Half became whole, two became one
Ripped apart, their lament lives on
Empty locked box where grid was found
Gave world her words... left without sound
© Debbie Razey 2019 - Violet Moon Poetry
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