Sense Sonnet - Chiller

 Broken Up

I broke my wife's fav'rite mirror.

She was furious so I lied,

"I am so very sorry, dear."

Truth be, I was laughing inside.

"You're gonna have seven years of"

"Bad luck, you jerk," she screamed at me.

"You are my good luck charm, my love,"

I sounded sweet as I could be.

"This was a present from my Mom,"

She stooped and picked up a mirror piece.

I realized she would not calm.

Those seven years would quickly cease.

This is the last verse that I wrote.

My wife with shard did slit my throat.