Red Tears falling like ketchup
The knife that wounds and marks called love
Red Tears falling like ketchup
She didn’t weep like others do
no sobs, no gasps, no reaching through
just silence, thick as drying paint
no hero here, no saint
He didn’t break a heart, just that
he broke the mirror, frame, and mat
he cracked the voice, the spine, the song
made right feel foul, made calm feel wrong
Red tears slipped slow, they stained her face
not pink, not soft — no saving grace
like ketchup down a paper plate
too cheap, too warm, too full of hate
She sat, unmoved, she didn’t shout
she let the full red silence out
a thousand cuts he couldn’t see
and none of them would set her free
A broken woman, inside and out
he killed her spirit, left her in doubt
Will she recover? Will she be alright?
Yes, but it’s going to be a long, sad fight
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (1)
Fabulous! My fave lines are: He didn’t break a heart, just that he broke the mirror, frame, and mat he cracked the voice, the spine, the song Unusual to include all of that, like the "mat" and "spine." The red like ketchup - great descriptions!!