Bruises

She looked into my eyes and said,
What never before had anyone,
“You’ll suffer one day for what,
 You’ve done to me for your fun”.
The words and the moment in my mind,
Are fresh as today’s morning dew,
The thorns she sew on my path are there,
And bruised I am in places few.
I remember that night as a moment splendid,
One of happiness, joy and laughter,
Though she never came to know,
Why I did what I did after.
The steps we took together in that hour,
Her right foot, my right foot, her left, my left,
Are the marks which still lie inside my heart,
Though she had long ago it to rot left.
I remember the moment when I held her hand,
A rush inside my nerve,
Time however spilled like a fist of sand,
And I didn’t see her beyond the curve.
She comes in my dreams sometimes and says,
What I did was wrong, I accept that in fact,
And I pray to God to take me back in time,
Only so I could keep a few things in tact.
The day she left me was the day I died,
And a million times have I died since then,
As from a high branch of some forlorn tree,
Falls the nest of a silent wren.

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