Murder Before Sunrise

In the Kings Domain,
while roses weep,
homeless hands invade
pale flesh, stain a sleeping city
crimson.

Winter's rime freezes
blood
as quickly as it spills -
dismissed by ghostly walkers
who see consent
within the brume.

Tattered thoughts flee,
scatter on a breeze
like leaves spilled
over grass. A moan,
a sigh, the frenzied grind
of stained denim
on lace.