What made her leave?

Was it the broken bottles

that collided with the broken bodies?

 

Was it the river that poured

not only pain,

but anger?

 

Or maybe it was the

faceless child

the promise of what could have been

but now never was.

 

That loveless boat that was slowly sinking.

 

Life rafts available but maybe we didn't want to be saved.

Already drowning, we embraced that familiar feeling.

 

What made her leave?

 

Without a slam of the door,

but a quiet slip into the night.

With the morning wake up call

of her missing within my sight.

 

Could she blame me really

for hand that life had dealt?

 

Could I blame her really

for the pain that she felt?

 

I found the darkness within

the endless cup

 

And I guess she found it,

with the open door.