Pain of Love I - 10. A Killing Blow

Your words cut like a scalpel through my exposed soul,

leaving a thick line of pain, hot and twisting.

Did you spend time, did you dwell with the words,

tasting their bitterness, sampling their savagery

before serving your departing dish?

Did you plan to pain,

wish to wound,

desire to destroy?

You whom I would have died for…

would have killed for…

would have lived for…

When did the pendulum swing

from loving to loathing, from holding to hating?

Now I walk through the desperate cold of a winter’s night,

the biting wind chewing through my skin.

I pull my jacket more closely around me,

holding it tight against me,

wishing it were you warming me…

But even the night offers no solace,

its darkness illuminates my eyes,

revealing what should remain hidden

Its anonymity permits only the freedom to remember—

it brutally denies the freedom to forget

And the imminence of daylight with its incendiary imagery

can only cast burning shards into to the darkest corners of my heart

It can offer me no comfort but pain

Surely no jungle beast, no hound of hell

ever possessed the savagery

of one with such soft, sweet lips…

Who would ever have suspected

how quickly they would drip with my blood?

Who would ever have suspected

one soft, gentle hand could deliver such a killing blow?