Bloodless

Paul Bell

The blade cut deep

She died laughing

Death was a relief

Unlike her life

Riddled with betrayal

He noticed no blood flowing from her hateful body

He was always sure she was bloodless

She certainly lacked all human feeling

But even a bitch like her would possess some blood

He bent down to check just as she was rising

Something in his brain registered

Sudden disbelief, sudden shock

Words in mouth froze

As total shock shook his entire being

The knife entered his neck

Spurting blood in all directions

His fingers tried to stem the flow

She watched him

Fascinated at the pattern, he was painting

So strange she thought

He always said she was the bloodless fucker.

  • Author: Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 18th, 2021 11:01
  • Category: Fantasy
  • Views: 28
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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Comments +

Comments3

  • orchidee

    An upper-class comment: 'Bit of a spiffing bad day there, old chap, what?!' lol.

    • Paul Bell

      It's Mondays, sends people nuts.

    • Nicky Byrd

      I liked how graphic/ dark it was. Good write!

      • Paul Bell

        It is a bit tasty.

      • L. B. Mek

        ha! great twist
        (that's why in all my horror dreams
        I play the role of the sniper
        so, from a distance
        I riddle corpses with a whole magazine full of holes, before
        considering its no longer a threat...
        or more often, I'm the one running
        until I awake from the nightmare, never looking back..
        I'm telling you,
        if they had an Olympics for dreams, I would consider myself in with a genuine chance, at the marathon) lol
        sorry, I wanted to respond in a humorous fashion
        at least initially, just to help offset the dire seriousness
        in what your writing portrays..
        there is so many levels, I could identify with
        and yet, I doubt I have even scratched the surface;
        topics, such as the insightful commentary on male/female relationship dynamics in modernity,
        or how, with the extinction of our collective moral compass
        and the vile 'warping' of woman's fight for equality and empowerment they deserve;
        is disgustingly being corrupted in the everyday violence we're being inundated with, and far worse
        is fast becoming an accepted form of communication in peoples relationships,
        growing worse at a frighteningly alarming rate...?!
        yeah, this is a subject for an entire book of study or Poetry
        but at least your Bold and Timely write, is insuring
        this is one less thing we can act ignorant, about...
        (thanks for sharing
        such a meaningful write)

        • Paul Bell

          I always have those dreams, usually at four in the morning, or the drone zone as I call it.
          I've always thought at the time I should get up and write my thoughts, but then I think I'll remember them later, which never happens.



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