Red Handed

It was not her intention to get caught, yet she wanted to

No, she did not. She simply did not care

Life never meant much to the ones who were like her:

Society’s castaways, just meant to be thrown out after each use. Like tissue, soft, useful , and multi- faceted. Just the right thing.

Yes.

When she felt the warmth of him on her hands, it pleased her.

It was the only thing that did.

She enjoyed taking his heart, away, in a way, that many did hers

She was rebelling, and it felt sooooo good.

Fight.

The look of horror in his eyes as her delicate hands delved

Into the sweet treasures, that perhaps she shouldn’t enjoy

Far beyond areas she should never venture, or so the man thought, as most men did

That they could control her, that she should be soft, and that she shouldn’t take what she wants

He was startled and she was pleased

Ferociously.

Oh, how the tables turned

Along with his head, as she took everything that was hers and everything that could be taken. As it was from her, and hers still.

It did not matter much what her punishment would be

For life had given her enough

And she had no choice but to take it all.

Back.

She dug her hands further, and the liquid spilled

It was only her tears and not what she had hoped

Not the life escaping his body, just her hope withering away

She was not strong enough

Yet, she was, refusing to give up the one thing that was hers to keep .

Her.

To pick up the knife and end his life

She could not end something that pained her heart, because still, she loved it dearly

Who would hurt her so beautifully as him?

No one, so she let him live so she would not have to journey alone

Lonely.

If she ended him she would end herself too

Her reputation was tarnished while he still existed

Her lover would be shamed

And her love would die like the flower held up to too much light

Never.

That would be the finish

Nothing more to hate

None to long for

No envy, just no

End.