She loved him, and made love to him. Every sweet soft inch. But if he found out she was to be wed, he would surely kill her. They made love after she worked, usually at his place, but today they went to hers, only to have her fiancé walk in mid throw. She gasped as he jumped almost seemed like he was floating, soaring with rage, ready to strike.
Lonely in bed with him, thinking of her other. He leans over, consoling her, a secret boiling anger filling him, because he will never forget, though she would like, if not love him to.
She smiles for him, reassuring him that everything is okay. That she has forgotten, though she knows she is not forgiven. Because at midday tomorrow, she will be wed.
He looks at her, dressed up in white and lace, knowing this is meant to be THEIR day. HIM in black HER in lace wearing his mothers ring.
But instead. It was he who held her in his hands. His cold unforgiving hands. He watched him closely from the organ balcony, staring through the scope. As the priest started he thought he was in the clear, ready for movement.
If I can't have her, then he sure in hell can't. This bullet is for my valentine...
A small curious head cocked around, seeing him and pulling on her mothers dress coat, trying to get her attention. With a small unknowing finger she points to him, her mother screams as he fires, shocking him and he misfires, the bullet piercing the veil of his love, everything moving so slow, almost as if they were puppets, moving forward, then falling in reverse. and suddenly, stops. His love now an unidentifiable creature, on the floor, motionless in white.
Today, it is dark. Almost in illusion as if it were night, a furious rain pounding the newly turned soil, each drop the tears of loss. Every woman present is walking, mourning the loss of their fallen, one behind the other, a straight line. Tears for the now disembodied black veiled bride, hiding the mess that was once a sweet face.
He is put in his cell to be alone. He cannot do anything today but sleep and cry. As he lays his head down on the cold pillow, and as he drifts into the black, he is reminded of that day, and hearing them coming for him, the mistake he had made.
he took away the only thing he loved, and how he loved brushing her sweet smelling hair out Of her face, her warmth bringing him comfort and a passage to sleep. But now, the only thing he sleeps with is the sound of sirens.
Its not a great piece but yeah
