Blood Ink

You can only fold a paper

seven times they say,

but I must have read your letter

a thousand times a day,

until I finally realized

the ink had dried away.

It bled into my hands

and ate away my soul,

until I cried black

and fell into a hole.

The abyss was vast and deep

the feelings began to creep,

until I remembered why

I chose to let you die.

And as I write the letter

the words they come out pink

for only assassin’s blood

can be used for contract ink.