Soul in My Throat

I should have put her soul in a glass jar. It would have stained the jar black just like all the others. I know that now. She smelled so pure and so sweet.

Sometimes gristle looks just like meat.

I tasted her; her sweat and her blood. My stomach turned and I couldn't resist. I took out her eyes and they tasted fine. But her soul was poisoned and foul.

My eyes water and I'm dying now.

I cut off her hands and hung them with the others. The black jars swirled and shone there on my shelf. Thick blood caked in stripes down her cheeks and I didn't notice her grin.

I save the souls and I eat the sin.

Her soul was swollen as decay made it bloat. It chokes down my screams and my breath. My hands and feet go numb first. My knife clatters when it hits the floor and the jars seem to rattle. My world is going as black as the jars upon my shelf. Her eyeless corpse smiles at me while I choke on her soul in my throat.