Love Crime.
. . .the sound, so loud.
No soul heard the shot
echo, except
me.
The pleasure, or
the pain. It grins
a smile of grimness,
deep, deeper than
the blue-green
sea.
“I saw her face,
a girl’s face,”
I whisper to the
deaf-and-blind passersby,
“an angel’s face.”
Her eyes were hazel
in the fine light.
Her mouth laughed,
like music.
Her lips were
a pink bow,
shooting arrows, or
bullets, etched
with her name.
On the sidewalk,
it’s raining.
My blood is washed away.
Her crime, my crime
will be
forgotten, forever.
We performed our dance,
our ballet, I recall.
I am shot through the heart,
again. . .
About the Creator
Mark Gee
I'm a reclusive novelist, playwright, and songwriter who writes under various pseudonyms
Dog Number 13
May 15, 2023 Strange things are happening. Good-strange, bad-strange, and strange-strange. For starters, me and all my litter mates are able to stand. Some of us can even wiggle around in a clumsy manner. I say wiggle because it isn’t quite walking but it isn’t quite crawling. We just sort of stand and wiggle and fall and take a few steps and then crawl and then get up again. It is in this manner we are able to move around to some degree and explore our surroundings. Naturally we cannot go far. Which is ok, I suppose, because I am very small and I need my mother for food and my siblings to keep me warm and I feel very loved and comforted by them in some way, so I don’t know why I would need to go very far. Having four legs, I must admit, is very strange. It is not a surprise to me that it is challenging to coordinate them to move in the order they need to move. But I can get around a little bit, my eyes can stay open for much longer periods of time now, and it is easier to understand what is happening. So this is new.
By Morgan Longforda day ago in Chapters
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