Crimes of Passion

Little birdies talking,
heard them chirping in the trees,
singing him praises,
throwing stones at me.

Talk of the whole town
painting me red; only
one question: was it
time well-spent?

Waited until I was sleeping
to put a gun to my head,
caught me off guard,
left me for dead,
and bleeding.

An enemy's enemy becomes your friend...

He put the knife in my hand,
tore the rib from his side,
licked the blood from my lips,
his fingerprints the only evidence
indented on my thighs.

Two lives, one night
forever intertwined.

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