Delilah

Oh, how stunning you looked in your crimson dress, it fit you like a second skin. I watched you from afar; beauty words can’t measure. Tip, tap: The sound of your shoes hitting the dance floor. I have watched you here so many times, Delilah, taunting all the men, teasing with your smile. Arrogance floods my heart, for tonight you shall be mine. My heart beats against my chest, I sit in silence at my booth, the rise and fall of your breast (a barmaid offers me a drink) golden locks grace your back; they don’t know how lucky they are.

A whisper.

A word.

Fury.

You leave with him, another man, hell bent fury. Beautiful fury flows through my veins, I pay and leave the bar (the barmaid winks at me) are you jealous? No you’ve already gone. Pity, I did so think we could be friends, maybe tomorrow, I smile at the thought.

Another day another night, darkness falls and turns to light, you haven’t returned to that special place of ours. I wonder are you avoiding me, of course we have never spoken, but the love I have for you surely must be noticed. I walk out of the bar, it’s getting late, and the 24 hour shop sells my poison.

Vodka and whisky: a deadly concoction. Wondering through the backstreets, my hearts stops in my chest, I see you standing there, in your crimson dress. Salty lines frame your face, you obviously missed me too. With alcohol flowing through my veins (inhibitions, intoxication) I study you from the shadows. I know you’re alone, but are you waiting. Waiting for someone? Waiting for me? Yes, yes that is the only answer. I walk up and touch your arm, my inebriated state has an oneiric quality, and I cover your mouth as you attempt to scream your love for me. Into the alley my love, this won’t hurt a bit. I hit her once around the head with my fist, then once with a dustbin lid. I giggle softly to myself, she looks so beautiful.

It is a mission taking her to my rooms, but coupled with the hate stained walls and my attempts at love, she makes the place a whole lot brighter. I may keep her here forever, I have yet to decide. She’s coming round now, opening those cerulean eyes, fluttering eyelids. Butterflies in the mosaic of her face (I studied Classics at college) perfection fit for a sculpture. I stroke her face as she stares up at me, we must be role playing for she looks scared. She can’t scream with pleasure of course, I have sewn her lips together with a seamless thread. I knew she’d like it, I can see the surprise as she starts to speak. No words. Perfection. I giggle once more. More tears of joy roll down her face and I scratch her skin. Whimpers, it appears she likes it, hours pass, or is it days? I witness her, starting to fade; I know it’s almost time for her to leave me. I take my knife to collect my prize. I can’t decide what I like the best.

It takes hours, but she manages to scream for me one last time (it’s raining outside.) Her eyes take on the glazed look of death, and her blood wraps itself around her like a second skin. How beautiful she looks in that crimson dress.