You'd think you know someone

after living with them for 

a few years. but, you'd be 

wrong

to think such a ridiculous thing



For, who truly knows oneself better

than that person himself? 



Years of loyalty and trust you give

to this person, but he takes that for

granted

Of course he would *snicker*



I have come to the conclusion

that all men are

deceiving

disgusting

dirty

liars. 



Sitting by candle light

I stare out the rain-stained window.

It's pouring a monsoon outside

but I can see a faint outline of a figure. 



Moments escape. . .



Tick. Tock. Tick. 



The door opens behind. And there he is.



"You're late."



2:39 am



"Oh! You are awake..." 



"Where were you?"



At work doing over time, he tells me. 

Walking to him, I catch a scent of

lavender perfume. 



Taking off his drenched coat, I can see

the side of his face in the dim candle light.

A red smear. A pair of runny lip stains. 



That fool…did he think the rain would wash

away the evidence and leave it

unnoticed?



Strike one. 



He sees the distress seeping into

my eyes, but I turn away. 

I hold a goblet of red wine for him,

pricked with a touch of atropa belladonna.

Maybe…tonight is his time. 



But, is it my place to decide

if he shall live or die? 

Surely not…



He comes behind, and whispers

in my ear 

'I love you'



Strike two.



I prod him to drink the wine

It's his favorite, so he does.

The bastard should have seen this coming. 

Much time didn't have to 

elapse for the poison 

to take its effect…



His body turns numb

And does the muscles

in his face.

Slowly, he drops to the floor.

The crystal glass shatters

to irreparable pieces. 



Oh, he's still breathing

mind you. He's just cursed 

with paralysis. 



He's a bit heavy to drag across 

the floor and into our bedroom,

but I manage somehow.



On the bed, I set him. His eyes forced

to stare ahead and arms flung aside. 

Sitting on the mantel

is the rose he gave me last night.

It droops with neglect 

and the stem partially withered away. 



I take its petals off one by one

and toss it around him as I slowly say:



"He loves me, he loves me not…

He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me.."



I chant this many times till the last petal

I hold in my hand and my lips whisper:



He loves me not – 



Strike three. 



Fate had his destiny figured out

It seems. 



Taking the matches I set on the nightstand, 

I pick one at random and glide it across its box.

A small flicker of light appears. 



There he lies. Helpless and still. 

I want him to feel this burn,

my sufferings.  



I bade a small farewell, and toss the dangerous match on the bed.

Its small flicker escalates higher and higher.

The fiery flames consume him, grabbing him in their anger. 



Who knows what pain he's feeling

He can't even scream. Or yell for help.

I watch engrossed, 

as the fire travels from his leg to his body. 



Clouds of black smoke engulfs around me,

so I know it's my time for departure.

Looking at him one last time, 

I see his body deteriorating. 



Quickly, I get my raincoat

and battered umbrella, then head out

Locking the door behind me. 



He  doesn't deserve to be in this world…

At least, not in mine. 



…