“His Tragic Love”

there was a certain spring to his steps;
he couldn’t stop smiling. the light, in his heart;
banished the loneliness, of a bad yesterday.
for the first time, nothing could ever erase, the
trace of hope in him.

he was in love.

he hurries down the road; off to that
little cabin; to see the girl, who brought
back the sunshine, to his dimming world.

in his pocket, he carries the little ring;
that will finally, conclude his ever-present
fears; of a life, without her, beside him.

he has decided to make her his wife.
he was sure of this: she was the one.

he reaches the little cabin; knocks lightly
on her door. he finds it slightly open;
quietly, he enters her home;

but what he finds waiting; has peppered
all his dreams. he discovers her on the floor;
her beautiful face all sore; blood seeping
through her dress; making it a sorry mess.

a knife lay beside her body; its sharp
edge still laced with red. they ripped
the life off her; his joy, his love, a-shattered.
all for the little black bag of coins;
they mistook to be of more.

–Diwa