Modus Operandi

The water flows, a deep waterfall cascading off of the back.
Broad shoulders sigh, the jet of liquid a soothing respite,
Washing away the unholy, the residue of my past lover.
I feel it caress my form, from head to toe, a sensory distraction from one's own demons, a hot flush of mist clouding the mind.
Time seems to stop as the foreign entity leaves, trickling along with the flow.
I clutch the steel, ending the dream; it cannot go on forever.
Towel meets flesh, cocooning the body in an insulating wrap, trapping my heat.
My feet touch the cold marble floor, specks of red ingrained into the pattern, subtle signs of sin.
Over the threshold, into the past sanctuary of bedroom, now a shrine to the damned.
My lover lies, spread on the double, naked, in the throes of carnal pleasure.
Eyes open, but inattentive.
Pale skin shimmers in the dim light. Long, dark locks of hair frame his beauty. A fit, domineering body, legs firm, arms formed well.
I run my hand across my lover's cheek, cold to the touch, smooth, and silky, hints of stubble not offering too much resistance.
Bending down, my arms wrap themselves around his waist, embracing my lover in earnest.
And for a moment, all is well. I am content, my soft breathing audible in the otherwise serene silence.
As quickly as it comes, it is dispelled, a single drop.
Drip.
Onto the marble floor.
Loud, an echo of reality, stirs me from my stupor.
I let go of him.
Red is atop my chest, red covers the floor beside me, and red defiles my lover.
Red owns me, red keeps me.
The crimson gape in his chest, a second mouth, talking nothing but death.
I am frozen, transfixed. I cannot fathom, nor comprehend.
Flashes return to my psyche, of laughs, of courtship, of, ethereal ecstasy, of submission.
Eyes turn, the water calls me.
I must wash the sin once again.
Category:Poetry
Category:Mental Illness
Category:ZugZuwang
Category:Weird