Crimson was never a preferred color,
but the time for precision and delicate touches has passed.
Reinforcements are needed to control the spill that is now pooling around,
but removing the weight of her fear will cause this heaving chest to terminate.
This life she has placed her own hands in now depends on her fingers,
and she can feel parts of him that he believed no one would ever observe slipping through the cracks as she holds tighter.
Her mind swallows down pinpricks of nausea.
Her flesh can feel danger,
and her face must be feeding the ego of the shadow that won't come into view --
And will it even come back?
Is it gone?
Can she feel a heartbeat?
Is he gone?
Shallow breaths gurgle and choke on the last of life leaving his body --
and she can't seem to find her own air to inhale while she wills the light to come back to his eyes --
And her chilled bones tighten further as she shrinks into the shadow that has returned from its hiding place.
The steel illuminating all she has yet to do before it plummets her complexion
and rips her open to steal what is left kneeling before it.
Her bravery, though admirable, unwanted.
Her submission, though desired, unneeded.
After all, it's just the hide to disguise its flaws that every eye seemed to scrutinize that drove him to these indocile contributors.
So, this is my second horror poem based off of events and characters in books I am reading. Trying new things. :D
YOU ARE READING
Self-reflections, confessions, studied subjects, and soul spilling words that sit on the page, but hope to reach out and coil around those that chance a peek at them. If you like what you see, please leave some feedback and let me know. If you have...