Ripper

he watched her, lying there in the grass, among flowers, the cherry petals covering her slowly… he suddenly realized how sweet was the shadow touching her and each flower gently offering its tribute of death to her was no less beautiful than that wonderful crimson bloom he himself had helped birth on her chest… the nectar of that flower still on his hands and the ethereality of the cherry-tree shade on his retina, he wished to grow roots and draw life from the very earth that she, his masterpiece, was slowly beginning to become