The Game We Play

A night so calm, the café’s lights

Soft whispers under moonlit sights,

Her friend had warned, “Be careful…!

The world’s not safe, for women now.”

But she, with calm, a smile so sweet,

Replied, “I know him, it’s no deceit.

For months we’ve talked, on endless screens,

It’s like we share the same routines.”

She steps outside, her heart is light,

A date arranged under the stars so bright.

He waits for her, with a charming grin,

But danger lurks, not where it’s been.

“I’m great with pasta” she declares,

With laughter flowing through the air.

“your pasta, my place, match made in heaven” he smoothly says,

But she refuses, heads home instead.

“I’ll drop you off,” he says, polite,

And they arrive, under the night.

“Come in for tea,” she softly speaks,

He follows her, no thoughts, no creaks.

But oh, the twist, the tables turn,

For he will feel the slowest burn.

Her smile was just a deadly mask,

To lure him in, her final task.

The tea is cold, the air is still,

The night prepares for blood to spill.

Her knives are sharp, her mind’s a haze,

She’s done this act so many ways.

For she’s the danger, cloaked in grace,

No victim here, she sets the pace.

His body falls, she starts her art,

Collecting pieces, part by part.

The world had warned of men’s cruel hands,

But she’s the one with bloodied plans.

A psycho hidden in plain sight,

Her hunger fed on that dark night.

-Anzlee thakur