I did it, I killed him.
I did willfully commit homicide.
I did with malice aforethought take the life of another and end it.
I feel no remorse, no compassion. I feel sated.
The long winter is over and now life can begin anew.
He is dead.
For a short period of time, I felt loved as a woman should be loved
and I returned the feelings tenfold.
When you love so deeply you can be hurt just as deeply.
I was lied to. I was betrayed.
The scars run deep.
Perhaps too deep.
I did not feel his life ooze from between my hands as it left his body.
I did not feel his warm blood lessen the chill in the air
as it slowly covered the ground beneath him.
I did not mark him as he left his mark on me.
But he is dead and I am alive.
I will continue to live. He will not.
He will enrich the soil with his decaying bones
and life will blossom from his effluents.
I am alive.
He no longer holds sway over me.
It is over.
I killed him in my mind.