In Love With A ***er

I watch him clean the blade of his knife with slow, deliberate strokes. I could picture in my mind him using the same rhythm as he stabs his victim again and again until he is satisfied. He looks up at me with his clear blue eyes and smiles.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks walking towards me. The familiar sensation of adrenaline pulses through my veins as I picture him stabbing me that same knife.

"I'm in love with a murder," I state looking deep into his eyes, "but I have never felt safer in anyone else's arms."