Shards of stained glass fill his eyes,
and he carries a mouthful of thorns.
But his words were like roses,
so it's easy to forget their danger.
Daisies and rue strewn over bloodied sheets,
he will bring your end
as you skip towards the riverbank.
Slip beneath the surface,
hair loose as water weed,
crown slick with remembrance.
Pray, remember
please peer through your madness
and remember me, my love.
He will recall only when it is too late,
your water logged dress soaking his black tunic
and dead tongue reminding him
there is no turning back.
