Blood on my Foot

Is it that I did something
Wrong dear? Did I upset
You to the point of hatred?
Because when you arrived at my
Door, with wilted flowers
And you said you wanted to see
Me no more, you broke my heart
And left me numb
With a lump in my throat
And pressure behind my eyes.
I reached my arms out
And you pushed them away
I gave you a smile
But I didn’t get one back.
More money was given
A thank you was mute.
I asked you why
I wasn’t loved, as
This is painful and
Hard to bear, now you are
Older you’re never there.
You didn’t answer, but
I still came round
With champagne, on the night
Of your birthday yet
You pushed it out
Of my hand and onto the floor.
The glass cut my foot
And you watched the blood
Seep out. Then you started
To shout and looking
Me in the eye you said
‘Get out’, slamming the
Door in my face. Defeated
I retreated once more
With the blood on my foot and your
Words in my head, I finally said
‘Goodbye.’
Knowing this was the last
Time I’d see your face
I plucked a tear from my eye
And turned my back on you
Slowly walking down the path
I didn’t know what to do.

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About selfandyou1

Figuring it out
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