No Named Maddox

She was beautiful. Her hair caressed
her shoulders. Her eyes illuminated
her face like emerald beacons.
Her skin was white and soft.

She is utter perfection.
She called me Charles. “Hello
Charles.” She must love me. I am
in love with her. I need her.

She loves me, she loves me
not. Not. Knots. I had to tie
her down. She tried to run a few
times. “You’re sick.” Her words cut.

So I cut deeper. Too deep.
Her blood dripped like red inverted
balloons; it covered the floor.
Showered it in false hopes

and lies. Her body was heavy;
It felt like I was pulling a bag of a bag of
cement along the river bank.
The bricks weighed her down.