The scarlet liquid shimmered in the moonlight;
her helpless, devoured body lie limp in the secure shadows..
With hands shaking, the knife drops to the frosted winter floor and
her deceitfulness lives on no more..
With blood stained hands, I fall to my knees beside her
and closed her anguished eyes..
Her legacy of immoral seduction and fantasies of destruction
no longer have the chance to rise..
I whispered to myself, 'she got what she deserved..'
Karma is so beautifully absurd.
Then I jerk back to reality and I realize-
That the girl in my mind who had died is I.
I'm no longer able to look in the mirror and lie-
This person that I have become must change
and the truth can no longer be denied..
My contemplations are becoming so strange
and I dreadfully hope that they are altered with time...
Melissa, I agree totally with Lamont's comment - a great write. If so moved please check out some of my poems, I really want us Canadians on this site to become more read by our fellow poets/poetesses. Cheers & keep on writing!
An honest poem that doesn't sacrifice imagination. Nice one. -LP
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank u very much ill be sure to check them out.!