I have killed her.
I have crushed her in my hand
to avenge the deep cuts of her thorns.
Deep red passion spill out of my veins and drip over her bruised petals.
Dark red bruises creasing dark red velvet.
I have killed her
as I touched her fair sister to my lips,
inhaling the fragrance of golden tenderness.
It will have to suffice.
Hear a reading of this poem at http://wildopallei.mypodcast.com/.