death of a pixie

her eyes were big, wide -
blue like endless sky, innocent
perfect wings fluttering over
tiny body, her flesh a waiting
canvas for my art

i reached out and touched her,
decay oozing from my pores -
her face, contorted from pain,
skin twisted, as she writhed
under my fingertip

merciful - i allowed her to die,
broken and bloodied, flesh scarred -
perfect wings crumpled, eyes wide
with terror...

her blood pooled on my tunic
the stain spreading from the outside
into the depths of my soul,
colouring it black, like a slow,
painful, welcome disease

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Variach, in the year 154 MA.