His One True Love Poem by Cherie Mort

*this is a poem about Jack the Ripper*

She walks alone down a dark sidestreet
He watches her silently, eyes hungry for human warmth
His one true love
Fingering the blade in his pocket, he steps out from his hiding spot, softly saying in a sing-song voice,
''Mary''
She whirls around, but her eyes are too blind to see the shadowy black figure on the wall
Like an unseen spider courting his prey
''Who's there? '', she asks, voice trembling
Every note of fear enchanting his ears with their melody
''Sing for me again, Mary'', the spider asks her
''Who are you? '', she asks boldly, the crescendoing beat of her heart adding to the orchestra in his head
He is the conductor, and she the unsuspecting songbird
The star of the show, the diva of the stage
Mary, his one true love
Or so he likes to say
The conductor steps out from his hiding spot, revealing himself in the dim moonlight
She gasps and steps back
He nods, a smile growing on his face
The orchestra will begin and end in just a few movements
One, two three, four!
Using the knife as a wand, the conductor leads the piece
The diva screams instead of singing, her performance ruined by the cacophony pouring from her lungs
She falls on the stage, life quickly exiting
He searches for something special of hers that he can keep as a memento of this moment
Something deep inside her - here is one!
A perfect pair, one for him, one for her
Neither of them shall forget this night
He leaves the diva on her stage, the hidden trinket in his pocket
So small it fits perfectly into the palm of his hand
As the conductor stands up to leave, he holds the blade close to his face
It is besmirched with blood
He kisses it, softly murmuring, ''My one true love''


And it is, in a way, since it carries his name
Carved into the handle is the name ''JACK''