He caresses the blade,
Stroking it as he does his shaft.
Gently. Long
Firmly. Strong.
It's edge digging into his palm.
The blood trickles down his arm to elbow.
It drips,
then flows
landing on her flesh.
At his feet on cold concrete.
Exposed skin.
Naked. Bound.
Pink tainted blue against grey.
He's ready to render it to red.
His fantasy
turned fact.
*******
Happy One Year of Poems to me!
Here at 555poet, I've reached the number I achieved on 365poet2010.
Now onwards and upwards, onto the next 190 days of fun, verse, tales and maybe a few tears.
Thank you for sticking with me, I hope you enjoy the journey!