Prelude to a Tragedy

A smile creeps
Across your countenance
Indicative of your pleasure
Of which I hope
To be the source
Walking down the steps
As if it were
A prelude
To your funeral
You hold your head
So solemnly
My inquisitiveness
Compels me to question
Your despondence
Your only reply
Is a swift motion
To my desk
On which sits
A handwritten note
By my former love
In a blatant attempt
To defend myself
I protest
It to be
A mere antiquity
You smile again
And I wonder why
You state
That you know
It is over
Between my former love
And myself
And to prove it
You hand me a bag
I open it
To find
In my dismay
A mangled human heart
That appears
To still be beating
As the blood drips
From it
Onto the ground