Deception, blood and dark intent

I see in streams of moon lit rays a figure of perfect taunts and long haired streams of perfection to frame the refined form of a women so blinding as to blot out a universe of suns and rename the definition of beauty in all the languages of the world

Walk with her or stroll with him in hands clenched tight to strangle the notion of sadness that exists between that pair but my own grip is choking the perfumed air of passing dreams and sickened visions of lonely hell

A rope
A wire
A thing to bind her there in perfections screams with sirens screaming merry hell as police do call and beg I repent my earthly sins before bullets fly and prision bars frame the windows from which I will see the outside world

I asked her straight and had best will to let it be with pictures fresh in my mind of how he was nibbling her ear and calling her by my secret name for that fallen angel as I now do see her tied and bound firing vemonous lines as she replies with cruel jest

Her lover down in running blood as knuckles marked with his very flesh grip the gun I torridly hug and plead with invisible forces to give me the means to find a way from this twisted scene I star as lead and villain all in one

She taunts and tears with scratching words and poking insults to further inflame my angry sense of righteous wish to put a hole in her head to silence the witch from casting still the lies she peppered when all I wanted was the truth of her mistake in clean clear tones

Noise as thunder and shouting lightning flash for the heavy strong officers remanding me on the floor in over zealous fashion and a style to shame the ruthless nature of a pouncing cat as she flicks a smile with her jagged teeth between crocodile tears and victim stares

He was a fool, my lover a useless piece of meat, now one is dead I hope as the other will face a public wrath for the pain I will falsely sell to make my case that he was bad, all the money and all earthly possessions without the messy accusations of infidelity and lawyers tax

The gun he hugged filled with blanks, the knife I concealed as ropes were loosened in case I needed to deal with him in a bloody flash, and to see the abusive ex I conned to help, broken and beat, a bonus to boot as I become single and rich

There’ll never find the drugs that rose his temper to match my insatiable want to ruin his life, every morning mixed in bitter coffee as coloured as my heart, black

Maybe I’ll regret this, maybe I won’t but for all this trouble I atleast deserve the cold hearted cash


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