The Murder of the Murderer

This is what happens when,

A song of the murder

Becomes the murder of the murderer

It was a day before; I saw him and her,

Running on the streets,

Laughing out and screaming aloud,

He never forgot to kiss her hair,

While, it was playing with the breeze.

So alive it felt like and

They owned the world; I thought-

A love breaking all the clichés and rewriting epics

Then, there was an elegy of slowness

An elegy of fathomless infidelity.

Heard it, echoing from a distance

Wondering with her eyes like a child,

She asked him what it is of.

And he told her with a lovely smile,

"It is the song of our love

Somebody will write one day"

The vibrations in the thick air began to roar,

The cool breeze becoming wild storm

But only an apple fell down the tree.

Empty words sprung with no meaning,

Blue lights of the red streets,

Dead souls, stunned faces

Life torn apart by life,

The street that went pitiless,

Till the end of times.

A society that destroyed itself,

While daughters of Eve in search of the apple.

The humans repeated their mistakes again and again,

Yet, the world moved on.

And then, the love that made mountains

Began to crumble down back to the soil.

The doom, the terror, the blood.

Stabbed him! Yes, she stabbed him.

And bathed her hands in his blood,

She knew that he loved her more than anyone,

And also that he was ready to die for her.

So she did it again. Stabbed! 

She drowned him. Tied him up to her chest,

And drowned him in the flood of blood, a river.

Seconds that will never return;

Time inevitable, Existence’s shortness.

He was stabbed but she was dead.

And when he was dead,

She was already in the coffin,

Covered with in some impure whites,

Waiting for the Judgment.

She asked me, why am I dead?

And I told her in a low voice,

You were not you, but you were him.

You stabbed and left him wounds but death is yours,

He bleeds and the pain is yours.

She gave me a smile

And returned to her coffin

Covering up herself in some dirty whites.

Uttering his name in the quiet of its dark,

 And here at the end of all things,

To him, who got stabbed and not died,

I want to say,

She has left you but I am here.

And I love you so much more than her and

will write you a story

But before that,

Come to me, a second time

Upon words and promises,

Let’s own something

Others will never understand

And for a last time, lay with me on the ground

Under the trees where we made love,

And kiss me while you have tears still falling in your eyes

Hold me tight for one last time

Give me your ears to whisper

And I want to tell there a ‘sorry’

Because I am not me

I am her, the remains of her

The woman who is already in the coffin...