Crimson Stained

Photograph by Graham Stephen. Click HERE to visit and follow his blog!

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She stared at him sleeping –
watching his chest
rise and fall.

At times, she would rest
an ear over his heart –
listening.

Saying his name out loud
or whispering.
He didn’t hear her at all.

One day they found him –
not breathing.
Blood on the floor.

His razor covered in red.
He wanted to be with her –
they said.

In the corner of the room,
she held him close.
Their souls intertwined.

Her wispy fingers-
crimson stained.
He paid them no mind.

 

My poem was inspired by Merril’s amazing short story.

Click HERE to read The Blue Room!