the suicide queen to her chosen

king of hearts, heartbroken lover,

where shall i find you next? laid

out and stretched flat waiting for

the next train to mark you martyr?

making more scars for my trembling

-with-false-hope fingers to trace?

don't die for this one, my suicide

king; don't bleed yourself barren

for this waste of breath. i have

already shot myself holy, filled

my wounds with forgiveness nobody

but myself could give--and now you

think i should heal you too? what

grace do you think have i for your

demons? what peace for their rage?

if in this skin, these bones, this

blessed body bared, you find your

redemption: take it it's yours. i

have already found my sanctuary in

your precious whispered words. and

i have no intent of returning it.

5/18/2003