Dead By Morning Poem by Argentine Tango

I should have known I could never fix your crooked smile.
They don't make a Photoshop for ugly souls.
You nailed into me thoughts and words at my weakest points,
drilled into my fault lines. I shouldn't have given tools
to a carpenter who'd never built a proper home.
So I did what I had to do.

I knew you'd be dead by morning.
I drew your inevitable last breath into my dream,
fed on the salt from the tears that you wept,
stole the words from your lips so as not to hear you speak
one last word that would imprison me.

I knew I'd get away with what I'd done.
No guilt, no regret would walk two steps behind me.
You won't find me reminiscing because there's nothing I will miss.
You won't find me begging for you, 'please, '
because I've never needed you less.

I knew when I awoke my soul was clean -
clean as a cut with a newly sharpened blade,
clean as a shot to the heart that led to spades,
spades that dug up the soil for your grave,
the grave in which I buried your memory
so you could never haunt me again.
You're dead to me now.

I knew you'd be dead by morning.