The Lover

The Lover

I loved her till I killed her
Murdered my loving lie
The one I yet adore

Met at a dance, she
Eager, pretty, thoughtful
Eyeful; who was I to have such luck?

She knew what I liked before I could think
Learned to enjoy such things herself
Knew that I didn’t like to ask questions

Was it months? Years?
No one counts when every day’s happy
Her joys ruled me

I saw her blood
Knew it not human
Said she thought I already knew
That moment recognized myself in her
The liar

She was an escaped experiment
No one could know
I agreed to their silence but at a price
Access to all her memories

I spent decades grieving and thieving
Accruing the cash to pay for her copy
In her form I now see myself
The liar

Will I fool myself about who I am?
Perhaps if I do the dead might live