Warm blood runs cold

WARM BLOOD RUNS COLD
His blood feels cold now,
running over my skin.
His eyes, once filled with love and passion,
are now permeated with a dark, drained, yet somehow blank expression.
My tears drip freely down from my face,
spattering his with a destitute chill.
I slide him from my lap,
my fists shake uncontrollably as I stand up.
My voice was shaky as I looked at the corpse and made a promise
that I had already made to others, to my lover:
“Your painful passing will not go unavenged,
this monster will pay with his life.”
The usually painful grinding of sword upon scabbard
made a smirk twitch at the sides of my mouth.
My eyes narrowed to slits
as I tread,
painfully slow,
up to this insane barbarian of a man.
I will finally stop this cycle,
I know the line,
between knowing right from wrong,
and complete insanity.
A smirk twisted my lips,
as our steel swords clashed with a resounding pang.