A budding writer's collection

Darling, death never stopped me

It was a chill evening in late November,
Drafts of the bleak wind clashed with the hot steam of the Earl Grey.
The mirror in front reflected the intricate knot of hair atop my head,
Yellow roses lined the tiny braids.

Mr. I-married-you-but-not-for-love walked through the door,
His grey eyes glinting with a hint of cunning,
Two foaming beer glass in his hands,
One down my throat,
Forced through the mouth.
I knew what it meant,
But when was I ever a prey?

There was not a single person who shed more tears
At the service as my coffin was being laid down,
Than Mr. I-killed-you-'cause-I-love-Miss-Smith.
My tally marks reached 3 sets.

It didn't come as a surprise when Miss Smith was laying beneath the sheets,
With Mr. I'm-sad-and-I-need-you smiling through the 'pain'
To their credit, they waited for a week.
I danced through the hallway,
Swaying to the tunes of your imminent death.
Oh, don't you worry, darling,
You'll enjoy every bit of it.

I watch as you bolt awake,
As fear paints your eyes dark,
My charming smile sending chills down your spine,
Oh, honey, the game has just begun.

Level one- your arms betray you,
The fingers reach for the knife you keep,
Should the need arise.
Level two- carve yourself, you're a piece of art, sweetheart.
Level three- Your cries wake up the sleeping beauty,
Her screams are the music for this piece.

Oh, baby, aren't you so innocent?
You thought a poisoned beer would damn me to hell,
But darling here's my little secret,
Death never stopped me,
But it sure put you to rest.