One night, the winter’s cold
Several fights, my blood ran bold
Bruised knuckles and a swollen jaw
Those eyes, enough to rip a mans heart raw
I just wanted her, you see
It didn’t matter how costly
Though when I returned, that night had proven fatal
A single note scrawled on the table
a
“Goodbye.”
a
It read
But she was still there,
She was dead.
Picture: “RED” by Maxence Marthouret from Behance licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0
Written Realities 