Stop

I am bleeding

It will be messy, she pleaded

But he wasn't listening

He was bewitched by her flesh

She looked ripe

Even if her breasts were swollen

And her belly, bloated

She looked more desirable

Than the usual days

He pushed her inside the sterile tub

While ripping her layers

And penetrated

She was moist with red

He kept slipping

In her mushy juices

But he intensified his explore

Till she cried in rupture

The tub was a painting of crimson shade

And the artists

Wrapped in fire.

©LR