Cold Winter Night

His feet stamp through the fresh white snow

giving me an easy path to stalk and follow.

The Chicago streets are empty: except for he and I.

Gas lamp after gas lamp fades as I slowly creep bye.

I know he is there;

he doesn’t know I’m here.

Catching him from behind, with a brick, I land a solid blow

and stand smiling, gleefully watch his final breath flow.

Red oozes warming and painting the powder covered street.

Death in a Hotel

I wrote this as a companion poem with Death Hotel. This is from the woman's point of view, it is in a form that my professor taught in class, since i never write in, or know any, forms I gave it a shot. Enjoy

I am trapped and my heart is his.

His blue eyes drew me in

and with a smile I was his.

In his arms I feel utter bliss

showing his love is genuine,

I want to be trapped, my heart to be his.

Despite our many differences

of looks, of class; our love will never ruin

because with a smile I am his.

His hotel is an endless abyss

room to room, he whispers— Catharine.

Trapped because my heart remains his.

I enter a vault, and with a kiss on the lips

he leaves me. The door locks and I remain within.

Leaving me with a smile; I am his.

I scream, I yell, I whisper— only silent responses.

Doctor Holmes, what did I do to offend?

I am trapped. My heart is his

taken with a smile. I am forever his.