You abandoned her when the clouds went grey.
You called it decolorisation.
You had never seen the absence of colour.
You and your golden schemes.
You saw the agony on her face.
The effort to uphold her smiling cheeks.
Maintaining your sympathy.
She held on to it like medicine.
You are the reason.
You are the reason her lungs are bondaged.
Collapse like a cadaver’s face.
You accuse her. Your words are worse than a blow to her head.
She sees you everywhere.
Your fingers pointing in her direction.
And you scream ‘execution’.
And then you kiss her.
And then you dare to kiss her.
Whilst your hands are holding the noose behind your back.
With the greatest of pleasures.
“Backward Glance” by Charles Edward Perugini (1839-1918)
Croque-Melpomene 