I wept for your killer,
And I left flowers at their grave.
If someone told me,
It's impossible to
love the sinner
as much as the victim.
I'd tell them they were wrong.
Because when I saw your body
sprawled across the bedroom floor,
with cold toes and fingers,
wearing scars instead of jewels,
with a bullet through your head
clasping a note that said:
"Another murderer found dead..."
You were still pretty damned lovely....
