Slowly he took a pen,
and wrote out the three things he could never tell her.
1) I couldn't help myself.
2) I'm sorry.
3) I hope I made your death pretty.
He stared at the list before throwing it into the fire.
YOU ARE READING
When The Blood Ran Black
PoetryWhen my demon decided it wanted out, there was nothing I could do to stop it. I could only watch as bloodied claws pierced my skin and shadows leaked through my eyes in black teardrops. It wanted out, and I was content to let it roam. >>>&g...
