In Another Life...Perhaps

Author's Notes: First, in considering a word and its meaning, things are not always what they seem. Second, "Flyleaf" is a blank page at the end of the book.

In Another Life...Perhaps

The problem my dear...
Your fault;
You mistook my identity.

It is too late to infer,
The truth as it were,
So allow me to deduct all the faux.

...you silly thing...
In my eyes this whole time;
A likeness to a caudal.

How could you not see,
Clearly my impiety,
Which, at your hindsight I now pitch.

...you thought...
My mother named me kindness;
Futil effort to cover what is Machiavellian.

I have stolen your innocence,
Destroyed you in a sense,
Leaving, the worms to do their cleaving.

...me a sanguine...
It gives me the stitches;
Must not be hasty with story left to tell.

No words were passed,
When your flyleaf I cast,
Tragic, but for me it was magic.

...I am sanguinary...
A lovely little curse she may have;
In another life perhaps.

Silly thing that I loathed,
You with dirt I have clothed,
Stilled, lays the woman I have killed.