The Point
He loved to take his ladies to the Point,
a place that only locals knew about.
He hated bars or any kind of joint
where common folks with wagging tongues hung out.
The Point had a view of all the city.
Far from the crowds, it had the perfect spot
where he could take each woman oh so pretty,
and place around her white neck a garrote.
He loved to see the terror in their eyes
and feel them struggle with their strangled breath.
His stunning looks and charm were the disguise
that led them up that mountain to their death.
The point is that no woman could discern
his truth until their point of no return.
Dec. 9, 2016
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment