Titles are Overrated

Part 67

My hand cups

the side of your face,

and I stare into your eyes;

so dark and broken.

The silence in me

screams.

I must confess,

for I cannot keep

my lips sealed

for any longer.

There is so little space

between us,

and I close it.

My hand holds your jaw,

and I lean in

before wrenching it to the side.

Snap.

Crack.

You drop

like a poisoned spider

crumpling

to the ground.

Your venom

leeks onto the floor,

a velvet red.

I smile 

because you're gone

and I'm free.

hate your guts, yet I watch them spill