They never closed
the closet door
or saw the foot prints
crossing the kitchen floor.

They did not notice the blood
dripping down the cabinet
drawers.

They never saw the gore
or smelled the pungent
carcass left in it.

They did not see
the sloppy streak
of crimson,
that took me
very close to them,

and as I moved
with all that swagger,
swinging a silver
stinging dagger,
they never saw it coming,

but they felt the blade
slicing in
to their fragile skin.

This is my confession,
that is where I left them
little broken bodies
sinking in
their own
blood soaked skin.