Memories

The tears run down my face,
Their tracks frozen,
Like harsh,
Bitter memories,
Of him.

My heart aches,
Burns.
He left me,
For that!
For her!

Those eyes,
That face,
Haunt me.

He left me,
Because he got tired,
Of me:
His little play toy.
Ragged and used up.
Trash.

I can see now,
Why he doesn’t want me,
This little thing,
Easy,
Hopeless,
Used.

But I know!
I can make this his fault,
The way he treated me,
With cruel hands and heart.

It’s his fault.
It’s my fault.

I take my gun,
And shoot.

The blackness is sweet…