The asphalt’s slick with motor oil
beside the road a withered rose
where shattered glass and blood did soil
a bridegroom’s new and shining clothes.
On empty roads there’s still concrete
for speeding cars to end their rush
and mangle drivers into meat
the hand of death — a royal flush.
A widow on her honeymoon
is midnight driving to her end
against a pillar finds a doom
she did survive but couldn’t mend
and live in utter loneliness
she puts and end to hopelessness.
Linked to Magpie Tales.
November 16, 2014