amour scintillant

The knife held in trembling hands. Gasped breaths intermingling in the cold, dreary night. Hushed whispers, choked off words. Thousands of what if's disappearing like smoke in the polluted sky. Soft flesh held in calloused hands. The soul staring out through its window— or maybe the bars of its cell, Wondering in amazement at the brine red pools. Wish you'd have kissed as softly as the knife hurt you. Glided your dirty hands on unblemished skin as the glinting blade did on yours.