the memory of
one hand clapping
echoes once again
she would almost welcome it
now the hand is a fist
he took away her joy
and dashed her life to pieces
and justified it all
with an apology
and a kiss
if she should fall in her home
and no one is there to help her
should she still make a sound?
she is the rose
surrounded by dandelions
this is a twisted suicide
she could escape
but she won't
the memory holds her still...