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Politics and Activism

The Silver That Judas Spilled

Beautiful poetry about a double homicide.

18
The Silver That Judas Spilled

Birth, love, death, THE END.


Her ornate golden hair rests shamelessly upon a passive body,

The silver pieces of what we once had,

Scattered across our temple floor,

Righteous wrath executed in quick temper,

Newfound hatred stands vehemently in the center of my psyche,

Our bedroom is silent,

Yet a merciless rage shatters my eardrums with a demand for more blood,

There is none left to spill,

The betrayer and her accomplice,

Both lifeless in the blood soaked bed of a corrupted union,

Crimson stained sheets failing to hide their shame,

Unable to shelter them from my unintended knowing,

Incompetent at protecting them from righteous retribution,

Refusing the chance to save them from a bullet meant for two,

Two dead fornicators,

Her heart bleeding into his,

His blood dripping down the bed post,

Eternally caught in the act of disloyalty,

Her lips are puckered as she restfully nuzzles against his chest,

A frozen Judas-kiss that peers into the window of my soul,

Drilling through the iron clad wall of grieving justice,

And shaping it into a double edged sword of passionate fury,

Her face shows no shame at all,

So why must I carry the guilt for both of us?

Years she spent pretending,

An imitation of tender love forming a thick veil over frivolous lust,

Lust I was never enough to fulfill,

My credulity kept my love for her alive,

And yet naivety finally lost the battle as I pulled the trigger,

Their figures rest interwoven in the most natural of beauty,

A beauty once meant for her and I to share,

The beauty she stole from us when I discovered them both,

And that beauty tugs at my breast and pulls me to the floor,

Am I mourning for the lives that are no more?

Or do I feel pity only for what I had to do?

I feel hatred,

And it snarls at me like a midnight jungle cat,

On the prowl for absolution,

Eternally searching for a justification,

Alone in the dead and starless night,

With rationalization nowhere to be found,

I see two dead adulterers,

Locked in an eternal dance of forbidden joy,

I rest my head in a pool of their intermingled blood,

Tears attempt to absolve us of our crimes,

But no forgiveness is granted,

I still love her,

Yet she will never love again,

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