Poisoned Pen

My inkwell needs refilling today
As many a page have been scrawled
By these my bony fingers
Night and day trying to escape him
Fill the well I did
When his gaze was cast down
With cunning and purpose
I bled a cat
A black cat at that
How ironic as he is superstitious of black cats
I filled my well with it's life
Ah the mind of a woman scorned
Poisoned at mind leads to poison of hand
Arsenic be my tool
Tainted now is the blood of my well
And I shall dip deep within
Upon my next verse
Contemplating his murder
He most definitely loves to observe when I write
Hovering lovingly over my shoulder
Watching my every move
I loath him and his observations
With such viciousness
I reek of it
Yet he smells it not
Nor do his sights extend past the end of his nose
Pitiful rejection of a man
Can he not see the twist in my face upon his gaze
Nor feel the twinge upon his touch
He sickens me to heart and stomach
To bear more is not possible
Thus I shall take advantage of his habit
My but these words look so beautifully scripted
What was crimson is now browning
A very interesting effect
On this my poison literature
This evening during his hover
I will rise and turn to him with loaded pen in hand
Smile to him as he has not seen in years
And allow him to soak in my beauty
Much of which he has drained in due course
Through his constant annoying observation
He will look into my soul for the last time
Prior to my taking of his
Yes, pen in hand loaded with my deadly ink
I will thrust it deep within his neck
He will not even have the pleasure of almonds
I can only imagine as I put this to parchment
The shock of my gesture
His mouth gapping and drooling in stupidity
Falling to his knees as though begging for redemption
That he shall not find that here
What he shall find is my total contentment
Through his orbits void of sight
He searches vacant visions
At long last
A wrong made WRITE!  - 4/26/06