The day I came home from work and found my girl dead was one of the most traumatic things that ever happened to me.
I knocked on the door, you know...she was in the bathroom...
No answer...
I knocked again, calling out her name...
again....no answer...
Finally, I kicked the door in...
Only to find my beloved, slumped over, her face buried into
the top of a bar stool...
I ran over screaming her name again...
and grabbed her head to lift her up.
Her eyes were still open and she was looking somewhere past me to another world...
her once beautiful blue eyes were now cold and grey.
She died not because of the overdose, but because she was
too stoned too lift up her head to breathe...
She died of a heroin overdose because she was in so much pain every day...
She couldn't take it and was constantly finding ways to alleviate that pain.
(She was run over by a guy in a pick-up truck when she was walking across the street
to her son's Christmas play)
It was her last day on earth...
I loved her...but no amount of love could help her....
Now she was out of pain finally...and safe and warm and peaceful...
Finally...

**************************

Dying Bird

My mind has seen the pain of woe
The longing hurt and senseless blow
of people dying every day
Their hurt a powerful burning play
So it was with my little bird
She longed to hear some simple words
like love and peace and just the sun
I tried to be her only one
But yet she was in so much pain
Her every moment lived in vain
She wished to die she used to say
I would cuddle her in every way
But she would cry into the night
There was no peace, there was no light
My little bird so sad to say
not long to live in her own play
For one day when I arrived at home
the bathroom locked, like death, this poem
I kicked it in as lovers bled
that's when I found my poor bird dead
I tried to carry her and give her life
but it was like the sharpest knife
That cuts you deep so you will know
you have alot of blood to flow
She was my bird, my little leaf
and now I play guitar in grief.

Cazzy