Good Day- A Murder Ballad

It's a good day
for the pretty ones.
A good day
for the spiders.
As he laid to rest the beauty death
and everything he derided.

He held her to her word and
silenced her pretty mouth.
A good day
for the sultry woman haunting the South.

A rusty belt, a simple kiss, a river bed
and silence for the ages.
Her mouth can never speak after he has
soothed his rages.
A pretty girl.
A pretty heart.
A lock of hair.
A good day to depart.

Unsent Letters

My dearest darling,
I hope this letter finds you well and that you receive my blossoming flowers. They seem such a small piece of my appreciation but I hope, I pray, maybe hold my breath a little that you understand how much I need you. Last night I met a call girl that had no teeth, no waist and no eye shadow but she spoke about Baudelaire through red wine teeth so I had no way of ever turning my back on her. Letters are so impersonal even when they are addressed. They are more streams of consciousness than any communication. Nevertheless, I think of you constantly and soon I will hand my crucifix on your door.

Edward.