He looked into the eyes of the corpse,
All of his sins flooded into his brain,
Trying so hard to avert the dead’s gaze,
The darkness slowly swallowing his pain.
Luxurious skin, long flowing hair,
Leaving her was a task; he pretended that he didn’t care.
Now as pale as the moon, knotty hair,
The stench of the girl polluted the air.
He could recall his wife’s peach scent,
All the pain he gave her, the torment.
As if he could hear the echo of the laugh of pleasure,
When she was having her final seizure.
He hoped someone would be kind enough to clean,
Charlotte’s bruised body and broken spleen.
Till then, he’d search for someone like Charlotte,
To be his new target.