Oh honey

Oh honey, you wreaked so much havoc.

None of this made any sense to me.

What sort of love was this? What sort?

Was it even love that we felt?

I worked three jobs, tore down walls on weekends

built them back up the next, painted them, planted hooks

for you to hang your favourite pictures.

I saw my ideas for our home slowly being scratched off

and I didn't care because I thought this was how love

was supposed to work. You were all I had.

I just wanted to see that smile upon your face

when you mouthed “I love you” across the dinner table.

Oh honey, sure I faltered on occasions

withdrew into my world because

I felt pulverised by your love

I didn't feel up to the task you had set

I didn't feel like I was good enough for you

yet I carried on for you, just for you

because you said you loved me still.

Oh honey, when I fell asleep at the wheel

lugging back from the hardware shop

you suggested a nap would do me good

then you said you'd love to see the bathroom done

because your parents were visiting next week.

I sure had to plough through this.

Who on earth loves like this?

Oh honey, I told you not to give up

that I had enough strength for the both of us.

I saw you drifting. You became silent.

You were coming home later and later.

You barely looked at my daily evening work

you no longer cared about the decoration

but still you said your love was intact.

Oh honey, I tried to save us from the wreck

but you wanted to collide against the rocks.

You steered our home full sail in the storm

and when it crashed you blamed me

and the rage you flew in I'd never seen.

But you raged in the name of love, you said.

Oh honey, what sort of woman are you?

You stabbed, shot and trampled my heart

and with one twist of your heel I was gone.

Oh honey, you carried my corpse down

the stairs, my limp head banging on each step

and you skidded off the trail of blood and laughed

rolled me up in that old carpet you hated

ditched me in the boot of my car.

And you texted me that you were doing this

and that was an undeniable proof of your love.

What sort of sick lover does this?

I wasn't ready to make any sacrifice

for I had done them all already.

Oh honey, you stripped me of my rights

you let the lawyers strip me of our house

which I had built from the ground up

and then you made sure I had no money left

so I couldn't sue you but I wouldn't have

I still loved you too much for that

for you said you never loved anyone

like you loved me.

Oh honey, I wonder if you ever loved me.

Perhaps I was all wrong and never knew true love

for when you drove through the night

to the seaside where we first dated

stopped right off the cliff

geared the car up, revved the engine

so it shot down and crashed on the rocks below.

Oh honey, you didn't even look back.

What sort of love drove you to do this?

Oh honey, you said you had your reasons

that I didn't look like I cared enough

that you didn't think I loved you enough.

So when I had no job, no money and no house

you saw fit to stab me again, and again,

you spun me around and slit my throat

and nonchalantly shoved me in the bathtub.

Oh honey, what sort of lover are you to let

my feet dangle at such an odd angle?

Where's the decency a dead body deserves?

As if everything we'd lived was forgotten

wiped out the instant you grabbed the knife.

As if I'd lost my humanity altogether.

You got away with all of these murders

only lovers of your kind can achieve this

and oh honey walk away in broad daylight

their hands, like the white bathroom tiles

spattered with blood, carefully cleaning them

waiting for the next prey because you feel

the need to love boiling in your veins.