Slipping out the back way
Will just open the wound inside her deeper,
For he pursues with the jagged blade,
And slips it neatly and discreetly
Into the folds of her soul.
He is the assassin of her dream,
The dark-eyed procurer
Who puts her on the black-tar street
To poison for lust
And lust for poison,
And long by night
To die someday
On knife edge.
Copyright 2007 by Jon Gregory. Written in 1999.