This is a monologue inspired by the story of Salome,
|I could never fully describe my feelings. The feeling when I pressed my warm red lips against the ice of his. So cold they burned. Seared against my lips.|
Red surrounded me, red the colour of lust. The colour they dress me. The colour you dress me in. Who are you to judge me? To even think you might glimpse at my soul. To believe that you can understand how I felt. I bet you think that I felt triumph. That I felt I had won. But in the cold truth, almost as cold as his lips, I had lost. I laid there, clothed only in his blood and watched him in his new death. He looked sad. Like I said before, you probably think I felt proud, but I’m human like you. I felt throbbing guilt in my throat. Pressing against my neck as if it would cut right through. Cut and severed, just like him.