Five To The Year

Scratch it out.
Bleed it,
Burn it.
Anything to surpress your betrayal.
Anything to avoid these reprecussions.

Today it is five to the year when we met.
You, warm, smiling,
Enticing grin strolling so casually round the corner,
And I,
Flustered, a mess.
I bend down, squatting to pick up my papers, and as I do, your gaze meets mine.
We stare.
Exchange greetings.
Entwine destiny.
Woven forever, my simple figure, your brilliant mind.

Yesteryear was five to the year we met.
Gold bells pealed long into the eve, hymns did not cease.
You, so beautifully coif, so perfectly pointed, and I,
Veiled, distanced, almost separated from your scending hands.
Candles scent, choirs exalt, blessings sing.
Love is attested with a gentle kiss, and another on they rosed lips.
If only, if only a single kiss could seal time, entombing one moment eternal. All left suspended, so perfect, so fairytale, so fake.
Love may not change, but people do.

Yesterday was when we met.
Freed from work, we were together, so together.
You stare vacantly at the telly as the sun is highest in the sky,
Donning a filthy vest upon your unshaven form.
I come in.
You keep drinking.
You shout at me.
I'm not good enough.
The tainting bridal veil has been removed.
I'm lazy.
Always was I faithful.
Always did I try.
Always did I love you.

You strike me.
I reel, and hit the floor.
You arise from your stuporous slumber, and I see your figure enshadow the now black sky.
You kick me.
I bleed.
I burn.
Anything to surpress your betrayal.
Anything to remember your love.

Today it is five to the year.

Five times you struck me.
Five times I was stitched.
Five times you cheated.
Five tablets...my provisional amnesiac.

Today, it is five years of love.