Cyanide.

A tiny heart;
a tiny frame.
I wish I could
forget your name.
The way we were.
The way we are.
The way it all
became a scar.

I wish for sleep,
solace and rest!
My mind repeats
in its protest.
"I would never!"
How could I?!"
Remembering
how it all died.

You don't know
the pain I feel
because your love
was never real.
You will never
comprehend;
that hurts most
in the end.

I could scream it
til I'm blue.
I would not
get through to you.
Play the victim,
play the saint.
Whatever picture
you will paint.

This is getting
old so fast.
Trying to
escape the past.
I can't trust.
I can't try.
My opium
was cyanide.

Christina Sawyer (c) 2012