Silent Witness

Silent Witness

In crimson wreaths, she rests in final sleep.
A moment’s madness has changed everything,
There’s naught to do but hang my head and weep.

The bitterness of words cloaked in dark pain
once spoken cannot be called back again.

A moment of insanity did creep
into my veins which made my anger sing.
In crimson wreaths, she rests in final sleep.

As though possessed, a darkness in my brain
assumed control until she lay there, slain.

I hear the words, “so as ye sow, you reap.”
Too late, I feel the falseness of the sting.
There’s naught to do but hang my head and weep.

I see the knife move on her tender throat;
I am a witness, far removed; remote.

She crumbles at my feet; a lifeless heap
that’s no more than an empty covering.
In crimson wreaths, she rests in final sleep.

I close my eyes attempting to conceal
the truth but in my heart I know it’s real.

Time stops; the clock face hands no longer sweep.
This moment, trapped forever, torturing.
There’s naught to do but hang my head and weep

A silent vigil I will always keep;
a memory that’s immune to fading.
In crimson wreaths, she rests in final sleep.
There’s naught to do but hang my head and weep

A Round 9 entry for "Invalid Item" 
Prompt: Prompt 2 - "Years of love have been forgot in the hatred of a minute." Edgar Allen Poe
Form: Any invented form listed @ shadowpoetry.com
The Grá Reformata  , created by Michael King, is based upon the Villanelle form and has an extra couplet between each tercet.
Line Count: 27