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.