Cold Blue Anniversary

My sweet darling poured in wine and petrol made a pretty dress out of paper.
Tied to it a detached wedding photo, welcome to a divorce.
I've got you now, I've got you now.
Come along sweet honey moon.
All I done was scream until my stomach bleeds it's acid out of my skin
and rolled the endtrails out onto the floor.
Now you can smell and see, what exactly your fingertip touch did to me.
The phone calls kept you busy while I strangled each of your boyfriends.
I wont bother turning the photos to the flame.
Instead I'll recite each and every poem I ever wrote about you.
Now our love sinks like a bombed ship.
I knew you were getting sea sick.
Now from out of curiosity I wanna see what hit's the ground first.
A heart misplaced or a wedding picture frame in a position of disgrace.
I wasn't meant to be there. Wasn't meant to be in the tape of someone so happy.
I tried to digest paper with paper clips. Tried to eat at the hand that kept so sweet to mine.
Love never tasted so sour but it was mixed with me.
Give me something to write about I am convulsing in tears.
Good thing I keep a petrol can big enough for the world.
Got it on video the day I died standing up.
Letting tears lick the burning sensation in my eyes.
Threw away your virginity to the guys.
I bet they thought they hit the jackpot. Hit the big fucking prize.
The last years I have spent digging a hole for the air to collapse and the sound;prehaps.
Making a gravestone heavy enough to bear the burden of my name.
In the hospital bed you looked so relaxed, so I thought I'd take a photograph.
Now the days are changing their colour to match your blood shot eyes.
You whisper in your breath a nightmare about when a hand comes down on your face.
Picks you up and drags to a dark, secluded place.
You begged to sleep in the corner.
You wanted to know his face, but he was wearing a mask.
The eyes cold undressing you.
You felt the sweaty cold palms on the naked flesh, paled by moonlight.
You woke up to find yourself floating upon your body.
When the living and the dead connect.
Yourself. What no mirror could reflect.