Her cries into the emptiness
with one remorse-filled parting glance,
belied a life hard to confess
in aftertaste of bitterness,
which scorned each offered second-chance.
In hope, no Heaven would dare hold
her liable for each sordid sin;
no Bible truth, no glory gold,
no ransom price paid for her soul
to cleanse the darkness welcomed in.
By open arms she was embraced;
eternity knelt by her bed.
A whispered gasp was not replaced
by all the airs her pride laid waste
as discards for those poorly fed.
A pity and for mercy's sake,
forsaking mercy's gentle prod,
not knowing peace, no peace she'd make.
No pardoned path to undertake
when she forsook the love of God.
The Gadfly
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Submission Name: Aftertaste
