The Killer

Last night I held a killer in my arms. I heard him beg for forgiveness that was not mine to give. I heard his story, and wept that I was the cause.

Last night I walked a killer home. I walked him to his door and embraced him as friend. He is wounded and I hope that he finds solace.

Last night a killer told his story to me. I listened not knowing what to say. The gurgled screams and tears of his victims now haunt me.

Last night a killer touched my soul. I am now affected by his misery. I am now accustom to his darkness.

28 years down

There is a sadness that corresponds with today: an ache that cannot be satiated. I can't help but miss the people I have lost to icy earth, and time's unfeeling influence. I miss them, these makers of memory. I miss them so.