Crimson Love

A poem about the destruction of a Demon...or a psychotic murderer.

Though I knew her briefly, 

it must be understood.
I saw the demon, 

which no other man could.
An evil dwelt deep 

in a reflection of her soul,
Inside this perfection 

were the eyes of blackened coal.

Her eyes seek nothing now, 

her body still warm and fresh.
The eruption of blood, 

as cold steal bit her flesh.
The crimson splash on my face 

has never tasted sweeter.
With the passion as her lover, 

I have become her reaper.