Staring at blood stained hands
Disbelief has set in
The body forgotten
The mind a blank
Thinking of alibis
Displacing the body
Wash the crimson
Blood from your hands
No one will know
What you have done
In sixty years
All will be forgotten
The body will wash
Upon the shore
Porceline skin
Will shine in
The moonlight
Not a drop
Of blood left
Said to have risen
From the slit
In the throat
None notice
The two holes
That mar the beauty
Of her life
Only she knows
That it was a kiss
Thought to be
One of love,
One of life
And yet
Only known to him
It was one of lust
Lust for what lies beneath the skin
Of porcelin white
And one
That can never be stopped