He liked the way her skin moved
Against the blade of a knife
He would often like to lose himself
In the blueness of her eyes
He would paint her body scarlet
With the blood of her life
He loved so much to watch her
The way she'd jolt and writhe
The blade so finely sharpened
Every incision was precise
He liked to think she giggled
Every time he took a slice
Her flesh was soft and thick
He ate it all, which was nice
And downed it with some cider
And a heaping bowl of rice