The mercy killing

He grabbed a knife, he grabbed a gun, and firmly grabbed her hand.
he drove her to "their spot" and he commanded her to stand.

"their song" playing on the radio was the only noise besides
her gasping breaths, visible in the cold, and her pain-stricken cries.

with gun in hand he attempted to defend his sanity,
"I'm doing this to save you. i'm not doing this for me"

and without another word he pulled the trigger with remorse.
and after a few tears were shed he did away with the corpse.

crimson evidence of his crime stained his guilty palms.
caught red-handed by his conscience, he tried to erase the wrong.

convinced that it was the right thing to do he knew he wouldn't get caught.
it was like killing a ghost, someone everyone but him forgot.

by ending her life he was ending her pain, a pain that couldn't be cured.
death was her escape route, of this he was assured.

he planned out all his alibis although they were less than needed.
no one knew and know one cared in life she had been defeated.

love was the reason, he told himself, why he was more than willing
to end her life of misery in that self-declared mercy killing.