I wrote a dirge the night you died,
pen and ink mourning as sadness flowed,
I sang it twice before I cried.
Our last words carelessly dominoed
into hefty, thrown stones of rage;
I can only try to counter them,
as tears blurs letter on the page,
lament and sing this requiem,
beg forgiveness for my dire deed
spurred by empty jealousy and pain.
Fiendish demons, whom I paid heed,
played tricks upon my drunk, addled brain.
Now I see your love for me was pure;
life without you, my sentence to endure.