Wreckord

Their raw record ruthlessly repeats,
scratched, sings sadly, skipping beats.
Heart heavy, he’s heard each bar before,
daringly daydreams disappearing, hear no more.

Her same shrill shriek keeps dreams at bay,
“I would die if you ever went away!”
The threat tattooed, tears him up inside.
Freedom for him heralds her suicide.

Her rosy lips that he once kissed,
her manic mouth, her flailing fist.
As madness moves her, he feels pain,
she swears she’ll never do it again.

Promise pale, putrid, bent and broken.
Stillborn, suffocated soon as spoken.
His heart aches after each punch she threw.
Where went the lovely lady he once knew?

Their raw record plays an anguished track,
her nails cling deep, dig flesh from back.
“Say you still love me! Say that you do!”
If he did, surely she’d see it wasn’t true?

Time ticks torturously, year after year.
Still swears “I’d die if you weren’t here!”
Until one day, finally he’s had enough.
“Well, do it then,” he calls her bluff.

Cards on the table, his bag in his hand.
Today hadn’t gone quite as she’d planned.
He heads to the door, shows her his back.
She selects sharpest scissors, starts attack.

Screaming, crazy, sharp & shrill.
Hair dishevelled, dressed to kill.
To leave her is a capital crime!
He hears her horror, turns in time.

Freedom feels close yet so far to go.
Wrestling, blades twist to and fro.
Flailing finds flesh, plunge deep within,
two tears – blood trickles through torn skin.

Stunned, he looks down at wife deceased.
Anguished accident, he’s wrecked released.
Their record remembers her sadly say:
“I would die if you ever went away…”

Copyright © 2016 Philip Craddock. All rights reserved.