Dark Poetry for Dark People

Stainless

What is love? Not this, you think,

As you lie on the floor,

Your blood soaking the carpet,

And dripping from the door.

 *

Not affection, you ponder silently,

Your voice not there,

Probably because it’s dripping,

Crimson soaking your hair.

 *

Fondness? Nope, definitely not,

That would be weird,

Because hate’s written on the walls,

Red liquid, dashed and smeared.

 *

Perhaps it is lust?

That would make sense,

Because you’d been violated so,

(And the pain had been immense.)

 *

But that was okay, you see,

Lechery isn’t painless,

Obviously it’s not,

Else your room would be stainless.

 *

But ah, well, why worry now? Really,

It’s a bit late,

As you close your eyes, slip away,

Think, ‘Obviously Fate.”’