Broken veins and promises

Did someone cut you to the core
in that psyche ward corridor
left you bleeding on the floor
bandaged wrists, still red and raw

Victim of my indecision
lover of my half arsed vision
you said that you were meant for me
but I’m your biggest enemy

Broken veins and promises
can teach us many things
like never grip onto a heart
that needs to spread it’s wings ….

With shaking hands, I called your mum and dad
his eyes were red from crying
and your mum was bloody mad
Awkward and confused I felt so bad
the whole thing seemed surreal and very sad

Crippling as it was to let you go..
curled up in a fetal pose
-it broke my heart, you know

I left you in that cold white bed
walked the streets to clear my head
thanked the lord that you weren’t dead
then headed to the scene of dread

The empty bottles kind of said it all
when I let myself in your front door
blood was on the wall and down the hall
but most of it was on your bathroom floor

I scrubbed and washed all evidence away
I thought ‘your parents don’t need this today’
I left a letter trying to convey
‘how sad I was that things turned out this way’

….
This poem lacks my usual rhythm and balance, like my life did back then.