It was the perfect crime.

No weapon was ever found

And the victim continued to eat and breathe.

Dying only on the inside

Quietly and by degrees.

Thirty years later

When she cut her wrists,

Letting what little life was left

Run out into her bath,

They said it was suicide.

But it was murder

Finally finished.

The killer still goes free.

It was the perfect crime.

Judy L. Ness