He went over to her,
It was dark,
And alone she sat,
Head buried in her hands as she cried.
He sat beside her,
Place a soft hand on her shoulder,
Softly inquired what was wrong,
She shuddered,
Looked up at him,
And couldn’t see a thing,
It was too dark
She started talking, and talked, and talked,
She couldn’t stop,
There were too many pains,
Too much hate
He stopped her with a kiss,
One minute she was taking,
Next his mouth was on hers
It felt good,
The feel of his warm lips on her cold ones,
Her eyes closed as she enjoyed the kiss,
Of all the things she had waited for,
Of all things she imagined were going to happen that night,
That was the last thing she expected,
It was too much of a surprise,
She sighed slowly as his lips traveled down her neck,
She didn’t protest as she felt her shoulder exposed to the night cold,
It was going to be a warm night.
** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * *
He traced his lips over her neck,
She was sensuous,
Her reaction to him was surprising,
All he had wanted to do was to stop her from talking
To distract her
But now he felt it,
As she lifted her hands and wrapped them around his neck,
He sighed as he made his decision,
His hands finding her right breast,
His wife could wait.
* * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * ** * **
An early jogger discovered the body,
Fully clothed and lying face down on the park bench.
The park was surrounded an hour later,
The policemen turned the body over,
One rushed to the nearest bin,
He threw up.
The other looked at the gathered crowd,
The crowd looked at each other uneasily,
The forensic photographer stepped forward,
And took the picture of the skinless face,
Right above the right breast was the signature,
This time written in red,
Her blood?
“The faceless stranger!”
The policeman walked slowly from the bin,
Headed for the body again,
It was her! He remembered the red cloth,
He remembered her soft lips, her sweet body
Her soft cries,
He remembered the screams,
The silence that followed,
And the satisfaction it had brought him,
But he had woken up,
Full of fear and remorse
And found himself beside his wife
In his bed
And he had known it was all a dream
But now he stared in shock
He looked at his piece of work,
Was it his piece of work?
He was the head of the investigation,
Had been for the last three years,
On his search for the culprit,
But finally he had the answer,
As to why he was always a step behind from the psycho,
He was the faceless stranger.
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