...and now for something completely different!

I sat in the dark again last night and thought, as always, about you. I try and remember what it was like before the blood and the pain and I can't remember your face again and that hurts, more than the knowing that what I did, I cannot undo. I can't tell you I'm sorry, the big old silver moon doesn't care, I sit, by the top of the stairs and wait. You aren't coming home. Not unless of course God has somehow taken back the damage I did rather than apologise to you for the little wrongs I'd done. I guess I know that the next person to come to my doorstep will be the Devil himself. Perhaps he will be carrying your severed head for me to kiss and make up with. I can dream, can't I? Make pretend that I am not your murderer but your saviour, that my evils purpose was actually love? Pretending may be all that I have left. That and your torso, floating serenely in the bath tub that is. I inhale deeply of your new perfume. It smells like salvation. God forgive me and tell the Devil to hurry now. I wouldn't want to move 'till he gets here. It would be impolite. What's that? The waters getting cold? I'll be right there dear. I wouldn't want you to catch your death now. Would I? Miss Jackie Coupe - copyrights held.