"it's too long."
step by step around the circular room,
closing her in,
cracking her surface with the knife he held against her.

against his porcelain oblivion.

his hand tangled in the sky blue tresses
that darkened to azure as you got lower
and lower
until it was waist length.

her religion prevented her from getting it cut.
it was her religion.

and as his hand trailed down the length
his voice whispered her poison,
"hold it up, love."

and he c u t.