she was the devil in a sorcerer's bones,
a wreath of thorns and skeletons
on her mind.

those words spilled
from the mouths of weaklings,
crowned heads; Jason.

oh, how she loved cruces - unraveling
another's soul to heed their
sins, virtues, luscious blemishes.

his were a pretty face and
the glint of sworn gold.
hers was mislaid ardour.

in her garden of ****** roses, her heart
was hefted with the measure
of a feather.

within shadows, she ruled once more.