Murder in My Sleep
A poem
Dec 3, 2020
Every living memory of you,
I cut and let it go.
Hush now, it’s time to be quiet.
No screams, no cries, no pleading, please.
The time for you to go is now,
I want nothing left to see.
Missing pages asking where you are,
your face along with broken letters.
I see and tear them all,
it seems, perhaps, they were all made in error.
How cruel must I be
to wish such things upon you.
But I am no murderer,
at least that much is true.
You are alive,
but not to me.
Your memories are here,
but I had to set them free.
