There was a bottle
Clear and filled with rosie
Colour or was it orange and filled
With white powdery tablets
And the seal, it was gold and lacey
Or it was white and printed in block
Labeling letters—
Or wasn't there a seal?
Appendix is cancerous but it
Could be just fine and
The heart is throwing clots
But the right
Side of him knows it
And therein the problem lies
He's so rational you
Can't be sure
If he's thinking truth
Or if he's weaving a blanket of falsehoods
To keep him dry when
The tears stream down his face
—or is it raining?—
nobody knows even
Wilson has no idea
He said to make her
Mad but that was the worst thing to do
Did he want her mad or
Did he want her?
There is no way to seek truth when
Your veins are coursing with
The very thing that can't tell truth at all
Maybe he'll be okay
His temper is cooled his scars
Will heal
He really does love her he wont drive her
Away from him
Again.
(but scars cannot heal. For that is the nature of a scar.
A reminder
Of what has
Come to pass.)