She'd wanted to shy away, but couldn't stop herself from going. The funeral was a small affair, attended poorly. It was so fitting for the "guest of honor." The cold, the sleet, the burial attended by the Parish priest and one old acquaintance. Good for him, he got exactly the tribute he deserved. Still, why did she come? She had forced the last breath out of him in one quick upward thrust of the knife, and now she was freezing while he was put to ground. She shook her head at the idiocy of coming here, of watching. She'd gotten away with it, but for how long?

The vision is violent
and the scene, gut wrenching
The blood and gore
The death and splintered bone

Why does it soothe then
why does it sweep away
a moments worth of anger
and a days worth of pain

I am ashamed that I see it
Guilty for the imagining
But what if it saves me
from the reality of the day

What if it prevents
Anger from overflowing
and pain from blinding
What if it is simply a release

God, help me....

She heard the Rosary Beads clicking in the distance. But that didn't have anything to do with why she'd come here. She'd come for....what, redemption? The candles, the atmosphere and the incense made her feel dizzy. Or maybe it was what had happened. Would the priest see her? Would he comment on her blood soaked hands? She didn't even know if she still believed, but the past comforts suggested a way out of this mess. Murder, she hadn't thought herself capable. Self righteousness and self defense, maybe. What would God say? What would the priest say to the drops of blood pooling at her feet?

I have a smile on my face as I sit and think
The pull of her eyes
Her smile
She is unaware of her effect.

I close my eyes and daydream
What it would be like
to be seen by her
She is unaware

I start to talk and lose my nerve
What a joy
To be known by her
She is

An angel unaware of herself
A blessing without pretense
A joy to behold
A spark of warmth in the cold

She is
my
wish