whisperes of healing and promises of reason,
laughing at her hanging hearted treason.
time changed nothing.
nothing changed time.
so patient was her tortured mind.
soaking her pointless wishes in wine.
she cries to no one.
to a lumpy pillow from a charity shop,
mascara stains on washbasket tops,
the clock hands amused at her self abuse.
silent cries for notice are no use,
she tightens the noose.
she couldnt make him choose.
she was never enough.
always the temptation and never the need.
following the breadcrums time would lead.
starving herself to feed his greed.
clutching a broken clock,
she ticks ticks ticks over the same claim,
a quarter past three,
by the willow tree.
she waits for time to apologise.
for fate for explain.
but it never came.
it never came.