Death to a Hunter

8of16 of a poem series I wrote in the perspective of a friend who committed suicide

I wish I could find that man
who pulled my love out of my hand.
I wish I could take his neck
and twist until a tiny fleck
of crimson blood dripped on his chin.
Then I'd dig a hole to put him in
six feet I'd dig and then I'd grin
and make sure that none will find him.

Then on your corpse I'll pour some lime
so that you will decay in time
without letting others discover
where I your corpse with soil did cover.

Sadly, doing that would not bring
her back for even a brief fling
so I'll just lie in my despair
pretending that I do not care
that you have found somebody else
from whom you wish a fond caress.