The Protégé Of White Chapel

A dark poem by Jack the Ripper’s replacement.

Twas your scent lingering in the midnight air — intoxicating.
I arrived half clothed, my heart was afire — obsessing.
To be absorbed into the meandering of your soul.

Twists and turns, waves and curves of you — personifying.
Twas not a yearning, nor a desire that made me hunger — uncontrollably. 
I smell you, I inhale the musty scent of your flesh.

I was in shock to see you decay so quickly —disappointingly.
To carefully preserve beauty with no putrefaction — infuriating. 
Twas a task for which I was unprepared and I failed accordingly.

I burn for you my love, I yearn for your delicate touch — endlessly.
Twas a shameful act I do regret — deeply. 
Trust that I will not make errors once more.

The next one that catches my eye will be the final angel — floating. 
I will take her flesh and caress it, care for it — blithely.
Twas, not the right time, my dear, to possess you.

To tear your flesh from your carcass — carefully. 
Twas a sight to see your bones and sinew — hanging.
I am filled with glee that my final angel you will be.

Twas the night the sky silken white — glowing. 
I let you run just a little while and how sturdy you are — fleeing. 
Twice you fell, I waited to pounce.

To see your face with fear knowing you had no way out — panicking. 
Twas invigorating to stand over you once you stopped — surrendering. 
I am entranced by your skin glistening with petite drops of sweat.

Twas the lingering of your scent, the sound of your scream — rousing. 
To have you my angel forever with your wings — fluttering. 
I saved you, my cherub, my love.

I am yours and you are mine, may we rest in the finality of bliss.

Prompt by Ravyne Hawke in Promptly Written “Moody Monday — a lingering scent— hearts’ afire”