My Red Leather Chair

I sit here,
Staring out through my windowpane glass,
Listening to the gentle tapping of summers rain,
If the sun will ever come.
The antique clock echoes,
Lingers, into my room,
The only sound that keeps me company,
Lightning light flicker, onto my hardwood floor,
With distant thunder soon to follow,
To echo through my lonely home.
A crackling comes from my fireplace,
With orange and red embers licking the placed brick surrounding the dancing flame.
The light touches,
My red leather chair,
Feeling the warmth,
I smile softly.
The pain is back again,
Thinking of her only hurts me more,
How can you take her from me?
She was so young,
Her life was more meaningful than my own,
Don’t you see?
It should have been me…
Should have been me..
Tears fall as I tremble,
The overwhelming pain,
I cannot bare it.
Cannot bare to live without her,
She’s dead because of me.
What have I to live for now.
The gun in my hand grows heavy,
I cannot lift it,
Please let me do this,
Slowly easing the barrel into my mouth,
My lip quivers to the cold black steel,
An intense heat rushes through my head.
No longer alone,
In my red leather chair.

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