Things I Wanted To Say But Never Did

One Of God's Own Prototypes

I want to write stories about
Our past lives
Our dead wives
Murdered by knives
No remorse
I'm being pulled by a pure white horse
Dragged into solitude
Feeling deflowered and nude
I want to write about our escapades
That we did late at night
Beneath the stars that were oh so bright
I want to write about where we met
Filled with regret
For getting rid of our problems with the rusty scent of blood
Gathering around us like a endless flood
You were there on that damp night
Holding my hand with all your might
While you let out a wishful sigh
The deed was done
We were ready to ride or die.