Painting the Grave

The fall sky looks upon me, I trade silver-eyed fate

For the reign of dreams, she called me a king

As the red-orange dead drifted lazily toward soft grass

And the last of blossoms shutter themselves into

Spindle-armed phantoms, reciting stories of a time

Long forgotten, I lie eyes closed against her grave

Pour the last of a glass of bourbon over the stones

She wouldn't wish me here, red-eyed and slurring

Verses, promising to return, some day, when I've nothing left

To forget, gaze across the gravel path, I've trailed

Twice daily, a pilgrim's journey into the maw of madness

Passed out drunk on memories, lashing out at the demons

That haunt me, addiction, depression, the tired eyes

Of a man bested by death, whose grievous error noted

On every breath I continue to take, she wouldn't want me

This way, but always took me in, clasped my hands to still

The tremors, and washed the guilt from my skin

She would keep me 'til I was sober again, the clouds gather

Whisper ominously amongst themselves, they know me now

As well as any, know I won't take cover from the coming storm

Know my regrets, the epithets sworn toward the lightning-streaked home

That has kept my aggressor well-hid, protected from the rage

Of years lain low, of tears stowed away on a ship made

Of glass and guilt, of poison and medicine, for the hard-hearted

My five o' clock shadow, one more ghost who darkens the path

Before me, I swear I'll save the inevitable collapse, for when I'm safely away

From her desperate plea to me, the day she drew a bath, lied down and left

Everything, the fall sky looks upon me accusing

Confusing the murderer I was then, for the approach to suicide's door, always open

I breathe in, one last low look to tolls levied, the red-orange dead

Have completed their journey, covered the path to escape this, I lie next to her

Brace myself for impact, the pistol kicks, shatters the silence, I remember her kiss

And swallow the bullet, she'll never see me like this

Again.