DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Wish I did.
Contemplation of the Deed:
Crimson
It's like the depths
Of my soul.
It's like the color
Of sins.
It's like the color
Of guilt.
It's like the color
Of love.
It's like the sky
After a day of death.
It's like the roses
That he grew.
It's like the locks
Of his hair.
It's like the blood
That pours from him.
It's like the death
That enshrouds him.
It's like the heart
Of my friend.
Like my sins.
My guilt.
My love.
My world.
My sword.
My eyes.
My blood.
My death.
But my heart?
Not crimson.
Black.
Notes: How could I? I just killed off the Beautiful One. I'm almost sorry. Almost. Very different from YSUtS!, yes? This was the first one I wrote and it's the title poem. And just to be clear, by 'love' I don't mean that this was some odd form of yaoi. It's platonic love, people. Platonic. Notice that he doesn't refer to the victim as 'lover' but 'friend'. So: Not yaoi. So go ahead. Flame me. Criticize me. Review. Just go ahead and do it.