C
Clementine S
Guest
I look down upon the still hand;
limply entwined with the soft one beside it.
Bones and veins protrude from the drawn skin
stretched like canvas, sketched with lines.
The woman’s hair lies across her face,
thin and dry, though heavy upon her delicate features
her gentle eyes not even flickering
not a breath from the curving lips
nor a twitch:
The familiar face I dread.
Although an age I have taken
many times before,
something in her eyes makes me think twice.
My unfalteringly hard skin seems to crack
as I follow the lifeless gaze to
the woman’s cradling hands...
A rare ripple of horror would shoot up
and down
my spine, if I were so unfortunate as to own one
would tell me to leave at once.
Should tell me to turn around, But
I cannot be bargained with.
I see at once a breath catch upon the curving lips
and a bulging tear swell
under the thunderous blue of her eyes.
I see that she is not mine to take,
not this time, not yet.
And I think: I wish she was.
Instead I must snatch away her heart
the very life within her, whilst leaving a shell.
I think I should cast my own out too,
to banish this disgust that I should feel.
Instead, I reach out and pull.
I pull at the already defeated air between my phantom fingers.
I feel it yield under my forceless force.
And it is mine to take.
I hold it in my arms and it smiles up at me.
Revulsion rises within- a baby beaming at its own killer.
So innocent and pure:
Tiny rose petal lips and blue bell eyes
that would sparkle if any sparkle remained.
The round cheeks have a shadow of peach
and the hair looks as if it would be soft to the touch
as soft as feathers.
A beautiful shade of chestnut.
A plump pink hand reaches up to me
and I smile despite myself.
I watch the infant and imagine a parental feeling
imagine love.
But when the rose petal lips part: for bell like giggles
No sound reaches me. No breath touches my face.
My shame would drown me if possible.
The woman.
The mother that I have rendered childless
has changed.
Her heartbreaking statuesque stance shifted
into a heartbreaking flood of quivering tears.
She is curled about the figure of a child
its round cheeks sallow
petal shaped lips, a hint of blue.
Blue bell eyes closed forever.
Its plump pale hands loosened around its mothers
utterly unmoving and wilted as a dying flower.
My body less self numbs.
My nonexistent heart and mind wither
I take my bounty and turn to leave.
To rob yet another life.
And the shame is gone.
I feel nothing in my ghost like person.
Yet I know the feeling will return
when I must thieve yet another person’s heart
and I will. Because I am death
and I will not be bargained with.
limply entwined with the soft one beside it.
Bones and veins protrude from the drawn skin
stretched like canvas, sketched with lines.
The woman’s hair lies across her face,
thin and dry, though heavy upon her delicate features
her gentle eyes not even flickering
not a breath from the curving lips
nor a twitch:
The familiar face I dread.
Although an age I have taken
many times before,
something in her eyes makes me think twice.
My unfalteringly hard skin seems to crack
as I follow the lifeless gaze to
the woman’s cradling hands...
A rare ripple of horror would shoot up
and down
my spine, if I were so unfortunate as to own one
would tell me to leave at once.
Should tell me to turn around, But
I cannot be bargained with.
I see at once a breath catch upon the curving lips
and a bulging tear swell
under the thunderous blue of her eyes.
I see that she is not mine to take,
not this time, not yet.
And I think: I wish she was.
Instead I must snatch away her heart
the very life within her, whilst leaving a shell.
I think I should cast my own out too,
to banish this disgust that I should feel.
Instead, I reach out and pull.
I pull at the already defeated air between my phantom fingers.
I feel it yield under my forceless force.
And it is mine to take.
I hold it in my arms and it smiles up at me.
Revulsion rises within- a baby beaming at its own killer.
So innocent and pure:
Tiny rose petal lips and blue bell eyes
that would sparkle if any sparkle remained.
The round cheeks have a shadow of peach
and the hair looks as if it would be soft to the touch
as soft as feathers.
A beautiful shade of chestnut.
A plump pink hand reaches up to me
and I smile despite myself.
I watch the infant and imagine a parental feeling
imagine love.
But when the rose petal lips part: for bell like giggles
No sound reaches me. No breath touches my face.
My shame would drown me if possible.
The woman.
The mother that I have rendered childless
has changed.
Her heartbreaking statuesque stance shifted
into a heartbreaking flood of quivering tears.
She is curled about the figure of a child
its round cheeks sallow
petal shaped lips, a hint of blue.
Blue bell eyes closed forever.
Its plump pale hands loosened around its mothers
utterly unmoving and wilted as a dying flower.
My body less self numbs.
My nonexistent heart and mind wither
I take my bounty and turn to leave.
To rob yet another life.
And the shame is gone.
I feel nothing in my ghost like person.
Yet I know the feeling will return
when I must thieve yet another person’s heart
and I will. Because I am death
and I will not be bargained with.