Stream of Conciousness/ Poem II

Red, you think of Valentine's Day and Cupid ensnaring the love of your life for you,

Yes, red is representative of love,

But still the same, no.

What is "love?"

Love is the reason why so much blood is spilt every single day,

Whether for love and pride in your country,

Or a whirlwind romance,

Come to a screeching halt.

Love is the reason why I am here,

Red silk ribbon around my neck,

Turning my bedroom into my own grave.

Love is why I am about to plunge this rusty kitchen knife into my breast,

Why I just slit my wrist in such a way that five inches of my bone is visible to the world,

Why I burned your picture, along with my still breathing body.

Love is the reason why you had to come to my funeral, knowing that you were the reason for this morbid procession.