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I whispered words of solace

She made a plea for mercy

Then I gently kept her quiet

Critically still

Solemn, suddenly small

Inanimate mangled doll

Critically still

She was one among many

Removed far from pain and misery

Now scattered all over the gloom

Removed from my loving memory

It’s gruesome, but so easy

How resilient I can be

To post-murder vacuity

To my natural empathy

(Resilient)

Condemned to continual widowerhood

I confess I did not take the easy way out

But over time I only keep merry crime memories

You know, I see myself as a refined french gentleman

With very ‘specific’ skills

Kind of old-fashioned romantic hero

In constant search for esthetic rapture

-Through deadly gestures

Alas!

I can’t bring them back

They’re buried too deep, with exquisite care,

They can’t touch me

As I don’t even remember their faces or names

They can’t haunt me

But ‘le fumet’ of their flesh remains heady

You can’t haunt me

You live forever inside of me

You reinforce me

Your life flows, fresh, inside of me

Sometimes at night, I admit I don’t feel very comfortable

Not guilty, strictly speaking, but lonely and observed at the same time

I try not to think too much, and focus on tomorrow

On new ravishing muses

There’s always a smell of decay floating above my bed

Too many organic stains on the floor I can’t clean

I can live with these graceful spirits by my side

While their mortal remains dry in my ‘cabinet noir’

Yes I have nightmares

Like you

Yes I can cry

Like you

Yes I’m afraid to die

Like you

I am such a sensitive man indeed

But my love for Art, passion drawn in red, is stronger than your pain