Malevolence and melancholy rivaling one another hand in hand, bringing out the darkest and saddest of me; this beast.
Hearing the subtle whispers of her long said words, "I love you" brings about the opening of the wound; painful.
Looking across the now bare walls where photos and memories of our youthful love, I feel only sorrow; only worthlessness.
Lying within our queen size bed and seeing the empty voided space where out daughter's crib was I feel the cold touch; suicide.
Debating on the way in which they should find me was perhaps the hardest decision I've made since you've left me; doubtless.
Should they find me resting peacefully by pills?
Or bed sheets drenched with blood of my wrists?
Stepping toward the dresser to adorn my handgun, the sounds of the clock ticking in perfect cadence with me step; perfection.
Fate smiles upon me, telling me she wills this and has urned for my drawing of my own blood as I load the magazine; click-clack.
Pulling the action back, loading a round into the chamber as I step across the room in cadence still, toward what was once OUR master bath; intent.
Thinking to myself how messy this might could become, I step into the shower after writing a note explaining my dismay; such sorrow.
I close the curtains and pull the 9mm to my head, beckoning it to end the agony of which I've lived thus far; alone.
Blood spatter across the wall, white shower curtains turned crimson red with the blood of a once honorable man; a pity.
©jarnmarr
J