Poet 11586

Here is the man who had blood on his hands

Here is the man who had blood on his hands
The way I would have liked them
Something about it, I can't live without it;
The way no one wants to fight him.
Though I'm dead, I still have read
The look upon his face
He can't believe me, he thinks he's dreamed me
For the past I wanted to erase.
In the air, it's still not fair
They knew I was the Selkie Girl
But they kept me, they never left me
Until I joyfully left this world.
Now we're here and there's no more fear
Or faking real love to pretend
His soul and mine, we are intertwined
And asking to be killed again. ❤