Dreams Of Rage

A grunt.
A moan.
An exaggerated sound of released compressed air.
Your sweet lips parted,
And I heard your last breath.
Forever in my wildest daydreams I won't forget,
For I don't regret my actions,
But I do regret your blood on my shirt.

by Edward James

Comments (1)

As if tortured /haunted /tormented by the death of someone very close to him