THE KILLING

THE KILLING

The evidence was in my hands.

I was blinded,

blinded by the ebony of the night so filthy.

I felt her sopping blood,

The color of mad rose petals,

creeping into my pores,

seeking through my veins,

flowing with my own blood.

Like of a silent river kissing the fuming ocean.

The ill-scented blood should weaken my heart.

But like the lavenders of summer it calmed my soul.

Her eyes were still wide open,

mirrored against mine.

Dark eyes meet dark eyes.

Her’s with fear.

Mine with vile.

I scooped her in my arms.

The coldness of her body that matches the icy breeze,

increased the numbness I felt at the center of my chest.

I felt the heat of my sweat dripping on me

as I buried her in the heart of the forest,

at the deepest part of the earth.

At the place where she can’t be awaken.

Where she can’t crawled back to life.

Where she can’t caged me back to past.

When the piece of soil cover the corpse

I drew my sword at the place where I knew her heart lies.

I tilted my head and faced the midnight sun.

I closed my eyes and breathed my freedom.

I just killed the devil who darken my heart.

I slayed the woman I used to be.

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I don't know what triggered in me to write this poem. This was written back in July 12, 1012.