She could not fathom the depth of my love. She could not concieve the degree of my dark confused emotions.
That tender young bitch just had to die! There were no tears of sorrow that I cried.
The years of her constant taunting and teasing. The hours that I spent watching her through her window. Carressing and undressing other men in the pale moonlight.
Her fears were realized when she finally told me she would not be mine!
To her I give one last toast for she will do none of that any more.
Now the blood I can taste, from the knife that she takes. As she lies dead from my hate no remorse!
Copyright 2005 Ablebody Peckawood
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/9741/63284 on Saturday November 22nd, 2008 11:18 AM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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