When I killed you, I didn’t cry.
I just looked down, at your head
listless, your hair wiry, your eyes
glazed.
_____I just looked down
with a semblance of pity, or
perhaps regret.
_____It wasn’t everyday
that I got to love this much.
When I killed you, a lop-sided smirk
dawned on my face, a smile
that was almost tender.
I didn’t look back
to see if you’re done.
I just assumed the best,
which never happens.
And now I find you’re very well
and alive.
There are worse things in life,
I imagine.
But the nightmare never ends,
out of boredom.
You'll get it in the mail
someday,
and it will be old and stale
and delicately fragrant,
and mildly haunting.
Like a piece of the cross,
arcane, and blood-soaked,
and generally irrelevant.
Such is our story,
mostly myth.
I just looked down, at your head
listless, your hair wiry, your eyes
glazed.
_____I just looked down
with a semblance of pity, or
perhaps regret.
_____It wasn’t everyday
that I got to love this much.
When I killed you, a lop-sided smirk
dawned on my face, a smile
that was almost tender.
I didn’t look back
to see if you’re done.
I just assumed the best,
which never happens.
And now I find you’re very well
and alive.
There are worse things in life,
I imagine.
But the nightmare never ends,
out of boredom.
You'll get it in the mail
someday,
and it will be old and stale
and delicately fragrant,
and mildly haunting.
Like a piece of the cross,
arcane, and blood-soaked,
and generally irrelevant.
Such is our story,
mostly myth.