The Chase

A narrative, melodramatic, fixed verse.

She runs her fingers through her hair
Her ragged gasps pollute the air
Gone is the poise, the queenly grace
She's caught up in a primal chase.

Her husband's close behind her still
His heart is hungry for a kill
His wife's betrayal tore his soul
And caused him to lose all control.

She stumbles on the cobbled floor
Steadies herself upon the door
Her bare feet throb with bruise and cut
She slams the door, and bars it shut.

The tears stream freely down her cheeks
Tattooing them with ugly streaks
She hears her husband rage and shout
He can't get in - she can't get out.

An hour passes, more or less
Her heart slows in her heaving chest
Behind the door, silence lies thick
Should she go out? Is it a trick?

After a while, she dries her eyes
Hauls herself up on burning thighs
Unbars the door, and risks a peek
...
The room rings with a piercing shriek

Her husband, that once gentle Lord
Has thrown himself upon his sword
The blood flows freely from his chest
She screams, he smiles - he goes to rest.