Bittersweet Revenge

Upon one late winter night
Whilst I read by candle light
A thick, aging tome of tales

There came quickly that late hour
During which the sanest thoughts sour
And all hope of logic fails

The ghost of the woman I love
Appeared before me, from above
And the flame's light licked her face

I knew her to be six months dead
Yet the thought left not my head
That perhaps death was not the case

I rose quickly from my chair
Anxious to touch her skin, her hair
But only numbing cold met my hand

But even still I found I was quite elated
That we'd escaped the loss for which we'd been fated
I had thought I'd never see her face again

I let my eyes fall just below her chin
And I saw crimson upon her pale skin
She still had the wound that ended her life

My head bowed in shame
And I knew why she came;
She wondered why I hadn't avenged my wife

I knew she wanted me to kill her killer
And as the wind outside grew shriller
I agreed he'd need to die

I locked eyes with the ghost of my wife
And I reached for the handle of my knife
And sat down with a sigh

I suppose it was her lucky night
For it wouldn't take much of a fight
Her killer is a man I knew well

Tonight it seemed he'd finally learn
When my blade sent him down to burn
In the Fifth Level of Hell

I moved the blade to my wrist
And gave it the slightest twist
This life of pain, I'd soon forget

And her killer slid from his seat
Sighing slightly in relief and defeat
And smiling for having paid off his debt.