It Was Love

I sit beside my own tomb
Carrying my heart in my hands.
I look down at what you've done
For allowing me to love.
I dig the grave where you placed me
And take the coffin from the hole.
I open it, and there I am,
Lying lifeless, lying cold.
I put my hands up on her cheek
And wonder how she got this way
How could the girl that once carried my soul
Now be lying in front of me, dead.
It was love; it was love that took her life,
It was love that reached inside her
Like a cold, soul scraping knife.
I run my fingers over her scar,
The scar love left when it sunk in,
I touch her hand and gaze at her
I feel her pain; her cold dry skin.