The day I left, the world turned gray, You painted a scene, a tragic play. A cut on your neck, a crimson stain, A story whispered, a heart in pain.

An obituary, stark and white,

Stole my breath, and dimmed my light.

Three hours I wept, a soul undone,

Believing you are gone, beneath the sun.

Guilt consumed me, a heavy shroud,

My leaving, the cause, spoken aloud.

I bore the blame, the crushing weight,

Convinced my actions sealed your fate.

But then the truth, a bitter sting,

The wound was fake, the bell didn't ring.

It wasn't just me, the blame to hold,

A twisted game, a story told.

You played your part, with cunning hand,

To draw me back, to make me stand

Beside your sorrow, trapped and bound,

In guilt and pity, on poisoned ground.

You said you loved me, then chose to bleed,

Knowing my heart would surely heed

The desperate call, the painful plea,

But love doesn't thrive on misery.

It sounds like envy, sharp and cold,

A need to control, a story to be told.

Call me a cheat, a liar, if you dare,

But you lied first, beyond comparison.

I thought you were gone, into the night,

But you were alive, bathed in the light.

And now, though you breathe, and walk, and see,

In my mind, you are dead, eternally.