DEATH POETRY: Cold Steel

When the cold steel sliced into my belly,

There was no pain, only discomfort.

Gazing into her eyes from a kissing distance, I wondered

Did they show betrayal or hatred

Or did they continue to speak of love?

Maybe both.

Maybe neither

They spoke a brutal truth:

“You are you and I am I

And since you question that,

Let your flowing blood answer your questions.”

Ah

Blackness came and went.

Life ebbed with each heartbeat.

Blood in spurts stained her fingers

As they held the dagger firmly in place.

They were the reason I was still standing.

And then came the release

And a gentle shove backward

Dropping me to the floor, still gazing.

We never lost eye-contact

Even when my head struck the stair

With a crack that rang deep in my nostrils.

Kneeling, she took the kerchief from my pocket

Deliberately wiped each finger clean

And caressed my cheek.

I pouted, Mmmwah!

A silent flying kiss.

She playfully caught it in her hand

And put it to her lips.

We smiled

A sad little smile that said

Thank you and goodbye.

“Wipe the knife clean,” I whispered.

“No fingerprints”

And cried out at the shocking white flash of pain

As she withdrew the knife from the wound.

Blood spurted with renewed vigour.

Raising my head from the floor,

I glanced at the little red fountain

And slowly yielded to the growing blackness and numbness

As she walked out, gently closing the door behind her.