Change of Heart

Before my eyes flashes my life,
As I drop the bloodstained knife.

If you think I’m dying, you are mistaken,
For it is your life that I have taken.

Searing pain comes from my chest,
A sword protrudes from between my breasts.

Who dares draw blood from this broken one?
He stands before me, thinking I’m done.

How wrong He is to think I’m through,
One body gone, I’ll kill Him too.

I remove the sword, my anger built,
I run Him through, straight to the hilt.

Blood pours from the wound, He is unfazed,
He acts as though He’s only been grazed.

I step back, my eyes opened wide,
As His silver blade cuts through my side.

More of my blood now drips to the ground,
My mouth is open, but makes no sound.

That damned bastard has taken my voice,
And has now left me no other choice.

He takes my chin into His hand,
And pulls me up, making me stand.

I look in His eyes, so blank and cold,
Now full of emotion; a sight to behold.

Holding me up, my feet don’t touch,
The dirt and earth I love so much.

“I’ll let you go on one condition;
That you give me your utter submission.”

I curse Him to Hell, and spit in His face,
He throws me from Him, putting me in place.

“I will give you one more try,
By tonight in my bed you will lie.”

I sit up, the pain searing through me,
Through bloodied vision, His face I see.

I raise my head and stare Him down,
He flashes a smile; while nodding I frown.

He walks to me, and I’m up in His arms,
In my head, I hear my defensive alarms.

I try to calm them, but I just can’t accept,
That by the morn, with Him I’ll have slept.

From the battlefield, we have gone,
So tired am I, I cannot stifle my yawn.

He removes my clothes, leaving me bare,
Up and down my body His eyes do stare.

“You are wounded, I can help,”
He touches my side, and I bite back a yelp.

“You are not fit to make love tonight,
I’ll wait till you heal, for that would be right.”

I raise my hand to touch his cheek,
My throat is dry; I cannot speak.

He seems to sense my need for water,
I have not eaten since the start of the slaughter.

He sits me up as He hands me a glass,
Over my forehead His hand does pass.

He holds the glass up to my lips,
And I drink it down in small sips.

When finished with the water, my wounds do heal,
He looks startled, my skin He does feel.

“Your skin it is now soft and smooth,”
He strokes my hair for my nerves to soothe.

“I would like to know the name,
Of the man who stirs my flame.”

He looks at me, His eyes slightly wide,
Over my stomach His hand does glide.

And now I begin to finally see,
He has no intention of answering me.

His eyes now burn with a hungry fire,
Full of lust and desire.

“Why did you choose me to lay in your bed?”
I ask quietly, turning my head.

He takes my chin again in His hand,
And kisses me deeply, full of demand.

To none of my questions will He reply,
I feel so needed, I want to cry.

When the sun rises, He is holding me tight,
I can’t believe we made love all night.

The sun passes over sleepy eyes,
His hand on my heart, he hears my sighs.

We have decided to stay together,
Till death do us part, forever and ever.

A/N: I hope you notice, the italicized forms of "he" stop when the morning comes. I tried to show the significance of her acceptance of him.