Memories

Bloody knife in hand,
A smoking gun in sight.
A melancholy heart,
Drowning in the blame,
Crushed by the guilt,
Broken by the hurt.
Accusations cut so deep,
As you become a ghost.
Should I remember you as you are?
Or as we were?
All I have are the remnants
Of a friendship gone sour,
The memories of a better time.

~1/12/2015

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