It's hard to believe that just one sound
Not even loud, not startling, just a whisper
Of falling leaves, of a faucet's leak, you're gone
The grief won't go away, it stays long after the stains
Are gone, washed away in a reflecting pool of water
Cold as your skin, deep and black as my regret
Does it matter, these long hours of my regret,
Remembering that one last fatal sound
The splashing pools of icy, pitch-black water
The final noise, not loud enough, a mere whisper
The hour spent using my tears to remove the stains
Trying to grasp the fact that it's true, you're gone
Then to find that it's not true, you're not gone
It was a waste, those years of regret
I could wash away the caked-on stains
But they were false, a lie like the sound
The final soft sound, the lie of a whisper
Was it all a lie, even the pools of bloody water?
Brings back memories, the sight of bloody water
The knowledge you were gone,
The final fake, dying whisper
The never ending flow of my regret
The pained cry, the worst howling sound
Filled the air, lasting longer than the stains
Must I bear the grief of new stains?
Douse the grief of my soul in more icy water?
Must I hear that awful, horrible, evil sound
Again and again before you're really gone?
Must I taste the acrid feel of my regret
That I wasn't able to prevent that final whisper?
But there's another way, yes, to hear that whisper
And only have one more set of the stains
Perhaps I shall only once, not more, feel regret
And I could very well use less freezing water
I would know for sure you're actually gone
And hear the awful finality of the sound.
Worry not, I shall regret that poor, final whisper
That fatal sound, the messy stains
But they come up with water, and you will surely be gone.
Points: 890
Reviews: 112
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