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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:20:54 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 131420
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => My Angel, My Siren
[time] => 2007-02-05 20:04:29
[hometext] => I want to warn my readers that this piece is a little harsher than my other work.
[bodytext] => The day she left my life, I felt a sense of accomplishment. That morning, as the snow pelted my face at her gravesite, I was stunned to realize that my heart was filled with joy. Joy in knowing that I was free from her cold and icy chains. The lies that I was told, covering her indiscretions. The pain that I endured as a result of the lonely nights that she spent in the arms of others. The constant barrage of screams and insults that were hurled my way. All gone…with the shot that shattered her lovely face. One bullet made all of my problems fade into the darkness. And, to my surprise, I got away with it! That was…until my siren returned. As I slept, I felt someone watching me. When I opened my eyes, unmitigated horror and fear gripped my senses. She was there, in her bloodstained satin nightgown. The face that I first fell in love with was now a pulpy, gory mess, the .357 slug had seen to that. She raised her arm and pointed her mud-encrusted finger in my direction. I knew that my joy had come to an end. “It’s your own fault! You brought this on yourself! If you hadn’t ruined my life you would still be alive!” The stare from her one good eye was unwavering. As I stared into that eye, memories started to resurface. The lies I used to cover myself, to keep her from knowing where I was those nights. The nights I was left alone because she couldn’t stand to look at me and she stayed with her friends. The screams that assaulted my ears when she found out I had been unfaithful. And the memories that stood before all, the thunderous shot that shattered the cool, silent night. Her face as it exploded in a mist of red. The blood on the wall behind her. The rage on my face and the gun in my hand. “No…no.” I repeated like a mantra to myself. She had not destroyed my life, I did. I killed her because I couldn’t face the fact that she had found out my secrets. She moved her pointing finger away from me and over toward the top dresser drawer. I knew what she meant and I nodded slowly. I walked toward it and pulled it open, revealing the same gun that I took the angel I didn’t deserve, away from me. I placed the gun in my mouth and took a final look at my dead wife. She looked normal again, like the same woman I feel for before. As a smile broke across her face, the cool, silent night was once again broken by the echoing clap of a gunshot. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 211 [topic] => 13 [informant] => trackiller2006 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 8 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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