I gaze upon the knife
He smiles back, gleaming in the light of the full moon
Such an erotic sheen he gives off.
I realize this may be the only way.
I inhale deeply, knowing that I may die.
I really don't care.
He begs my company,
I can no longer deny that this is my fate.
I take the blade in my hand,
Whispering a goodbye prayer,
Lift him up,
And bring him down upon my stomach,
And scream, feeling warm blood run down my legs,
Creating a fresh pool of luscious crimson.
 Jew-bacca · Fri Sep 16, 2005 @ 11:15pm · 0 Comments |
