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A cold day in...

by Maria Francesca

"Call me Hell," she said,
I'm hotter than anything you've come across.
"Call me Hell and take my hand,
or you'll regret the loss.
"Call me Hell -
I know you will;
you were mine from the very first glance."

He took her in from head to toe
and said, "What the Hell --
let's dance."

and "What the Hell -- let's tie the knot
and buy a house
and have some kids."

And every day
she said, "Call me Hell"
and every day he did.

And every day he loved his Hell
and every night he kissed her;

and when she aged and died
he stood and cried
'cause sure as Hell, he missed her.

And when he murdered the funeral party
(the mourners and the priest, as well),
with as sigh and a smile
he said "This is how I'll
be sure to go back to my Hell."

05/08/2010

Author's Note: *

Posted on 05/09/2010
Copyright © 2019 Maria Francesca

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by A. Paige White on 05/09/10 at 04:17 AM

Now that's grief! Who the hell could better tell what the hell grief can do? Very well done!

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