A Death too Small to Remember

I intentionally wrote this for a contest i was planning on doing, and then i got only four lines written when i got disintrested. I woke up today with the intention of just coming on the internet to publish some of my old work when i saw this was still le

I saw him

Standing there.

With that blank look on his face.

How could he know?

I was about to murder him for the very crime he could not help but commit.

I’m sorry it had to come to this I would say.

But not anymore.

Now I just say that

I’m sorry

 

For waiting too long.

 

His eyes were in front of me, his back towards me.

What was I to do?

Should I do it slowly

Should I make him suffer.

The way he ripped my guts out and tore my heart out?

No, that was too good.

For him.

He needed to die.

Without pain

Without suffering

Without any thought put into it.

And so I say, I’m sorry

That I waited too long

To do this.

Do you forgive me?

I plunged the knife into his throat while I stood in back of him

He never struggled

And neither did I.

I was surprised at how loose I felt when I did it.

I didn’t feel anything

Except relief.

It was done

He was gone.

It was over.

 

Then he grabbed my wrist.

 

I had no time to react.

I had no time to explain

All I had to do was to say that I didn’t-

Then I held onto me.

More of a death grip than anything else

He wouldn’t let me go.

What was I to do.

But wait there till he died.

I had already made a commitment to myself not to give him too much attention.

And so we both stood there.

One of us dying, the other being reborn.

I didn’t know what it felt like then.

The place I was.

Somewhere in-between remorse and renewal

For although this man ruined my heart

My life

My soul

He was still in me,

Somewhere where I could never fully understand

Never reach.

I’m sorry.

He was slowly releasing my grip.

I suddenly felt a twinge of passion.

What was happening to me?

Why was I suddenly caring about what happened to him?

This man had ruined my life.

And yet I still loved him.

What happens now?

When you commit a crime that you regret with such agony it hardly seems bearable?

I’m sorry.

It was different this time.

I loved him

I wanted him

I needed him

He loosened his grip even more and his hand finally fell.

And then it was all composed.

I didn’t care about him anymore.

What I had felt as he was dying was human

Was instinct.

And as I pulled out the knife out I thought to myself about how my new life would be.

Without him

.

And as I walked away

With my blood stained knife in hand

I didn’t realize what I was saying when I said

I loved-

And that was all.

 

I never even looked into his eyes.

 

THE END

Author's Note

As i said, i wrote this in one big sweep, si i'm sorry about any miss-spellings and and quotation marks. Any help in finding them would be greatly appreciated! :)

Reviews

[Forist.johnston]

Very Passionate. I like it. =]

[Grey]

actually there aren't really any huge punctuation errors. [at least that i saw]

hmm, very creepy and bloody. its alot like the opening of a csi episode. murderous, but without being grossly gory. and the poem form makes it more interesting.

[Damien Dsoul]

This prose poem is viciously dark and doesn't shed any tear in it's been such. The tone is cold and absorbing, and that last line is pure wicked. Very Stephen King-like.