In the Corner of a Deserted Chamber

He sat there
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with cobwebs, and ants crawling somewhere
with distress, and words he could barely hear

He was gloomy
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with a pang of guilt, and an inscrutable straight face
with misery, and with a reminiscence of the tragedy

He was betrayed
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with silhouettes, of love and acts of copulation
with her, whom he adores and loves and glorifies

He took away her life
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with a blunt knife, corroded and rustic
with her blood, and gore of acrid smell

He lost her
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with tears, flooded from his heart as blood
with grief, and outpouring remorse

He wanted her back
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with high regards, of loving her once more
with deep love, no man can fathom

Now, he’s alone
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with walls, of bricks and planks of wood
with cloistered way of life, and of death