For a moment, the burning in my throat quickened, and my blood pulsed with a fleeting hope. But your hands still remained firm, the dagger still protruded from my blood strewn chest, and your steady eyes still kissed my dying face with an evil sparkle. And so my throat went numb, my blood flickered into stillness, and my morbid ocean eyes still remained on my killer, with a gaze that Venus would envy. Finding my body limp and your task completed, you released your hands from me and stood over your deed without a tear. And your same bloodied hands rejoiced in my cajoling silence, dripping a bouncy tune in the blackness of night.
Copyright 2007 of Jessica Anne McLean. All rights reserved. File sharing is encouraged.
The Rose 
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