Ophelia

She showed up at his doorstep at sun down.
Her hair was disheveled, her clothes torn and stained with blood.

During the late summer storm, they were helpless against the passion they were forbidden to feel.

She couldn’t leave and he couldn’t let her. All through the night she enticed him with her words. He should not have been enticed. He should not have touched his claimed lips onto her sweet, innocent ones.

He woke to the sun on his face, the screams of his wife, no recollection of the night after that kiss, and a dead girl next to him.

He knew her story, he knew her body, and he even knew her name.

Ophelia