Requited revenge  

I suppose this is bad,
Considered to be wrong.
Though I will do it anyway.

It makes me feel whole again.
It is as if hurting him closes the hole.
The burnt,
Torn hole.

I clutch my knife to my chest,
Waiting for the perfect time.
It comes all too soon.

There is red,
It is everywhere.

I have done my work,
And I regret nothing.
He is dead,
And I am finally living.