Does he see her? Can he feel her?
Does he know why, so often she lied?
His promises do they mean nothing,
Can he feel, does he feel anything?
She understands him, she knows the truth,
Yet he pushes her away, afraid of anything new,
Killing her means nothing, or does it?
"Your afraid?" She asked,
"Of letting me in."
He turned his head, and walked far from the room,
"I am a flower." She said, then whispered as he reached for the door,
"A flower who will never bloom." Her tears flowed, as she crumbled to the floor.
Looking at that wilted flower, the one with stained blood eyes,
The emptiness inside him, she never knew the pain that would rise,
"You killed a cherry blossom, crushed it with your love,"
He bent down, and she stared above.
"This was a sin from the start." He caressed her cheek,
"A betrayal at most, a murder at least."
A click he heard, a voice inside,
"Kill her. Torture her. Make her cry."
He turned his back, afraid of the voice,
"Kill her now! Make her pay!"
She touched him kindly, whispered in a soothing voice,
"A sin is a act of desire, lust if you would say."
Reality snap, his mind went blank,
She whispered his name, softly, but firm,
He whimpered slowly, whispering why?
She held his hand, and all questions sank,
He was to kill her, and she was to die,
She held his gun, "So cold." She thought,
Placed it to her head, and heard a shot.
Blood stained her clothes, but one questioned remained,
Why was she breathing? Why was she alive?
He smiled a smile, once in his life,
The smile saved only for her,
The one, to watch him die.