His future sick and twisted
his rotten stench of hate
the poor tortured soul
was about to meet his fate.

Her wielded blade was just
itching to hurt
to carve off his face
and spill entrails in dirt.

The moments they spent just
watching...
staring...
mesmerized...
feeling...
knowing...
And then; as if told by a mental clock

There was screaming and slashing
and anger and pain
and sickness and hurt
Just thinking about hurting each other
hurt them even more.

Alas! a bloody carcass lay on the floor.
The victor collapsed and with a sigh...
and a frown...
whispered, "I love you, you know. I guess I win.
It's not much of a victory without you."

With his last bit of strength, he scalped her.
Careful, precise movements.
With his task finally complete...
he shoved the mangy bloody mass of pulp
into his mouth.
Just wanting to taste love again.

And with that; as they lay torn apart; yet connected...
another chapter in life was finished.