Fish for Dinner

It’s no coincidence that the things you gave your life to

Are lying on the ground before you

Irreparably broken

What made you turn your head and look the way of the paths

Untaken and the roads you

Left forsaken

Her eyes were fixed on the knife as the hand which wielded it

Brought flourish to the act

Of skinning a cold dead fish

Were these the moments of definition for someone searching for signs

Always needing an escape hatch

A window to fly through

The flowers hanging down in front of the panes from the vines

Wrapped in the eaves

Offered a beautiful and delicate reprieve from the blood and guts

Camouflage for her mental state and the silent screaming she

Was used to

Cold for so long in the frost-bitten arc of a mummified past

And nothing would take the fear from her heart

Bring the peace of knowing he regards her as something valued

Bring the world to its knees with the crushing blow of simple truth

Tonight he will pry open her bleeding heart and search for clues

Tonight the sky is clear and voices resonate with pleasant tones

Fish for dinner, music for the memories

And a window to fly through