The blood
The knife
Both scarlet
In the sickly yellow light
Of a street-lamp.
A dull thud
Whuu-thum-dmp
A hollow
Broken sort of noise
The fingers
Twitching with one
Final plea
That someone
Anyone
Will help.
The pounding footsteps
Fading into the distance,
A heart thumping,
Beat slowing and
Disappearing along with the killer
Dead eyes
Staring skyward.
The blood
Weaving a trail
Through the cobblestones
Down into a solitary gutter
And draining
the viticm's
last bit of life
With a horrid
Glug-shh-gurg.
The blood,
The knife,
Both scarlet.