She lay weeping infront of him,
Her eyes red,
And wrists carved and bloody
Gripping the grass beneath her,
She crawled up to the stone
Placing her hands on the cold rock
Smothering it in blood.
She felt the little ingraved letters,
Pondering to herself
This isnt real,
Sobs of crying came from her,
As she scrambled to her feet,
Her wedding dress flowing and flaping in the wind
Riped and torn.
And blood covered.
She bent down and picked up the blade,
That had killed her soul,
Torchered and twisted her wrists,
And murdered the one she loved,
She placed it infron of the grave stone
And walked to the tree where it lay
The contents inside would tell and end her story,
She picked up the bag
Reached inside and pulled it out.
She carried it back over to the grave,
Sat down by the stone and knife,
Put the barrel to her head,
Pulled the trigger,
And there was no more,
The gun had ended her
And her story,
There was no more to tell
Only that it was a bloody romance
That killed her.
This is amazing, I like how you described things so well, and still kept it strict.
Do more, please.
You've been warned before about plagiarism, but seems you didn't take it very seriously. I came across this same poem, same spelling/grammatical errors, different title, here:
I don't think this is your original work, seeing as it was posted at the above link at least six months ago, by a young lady named Rachel.