Crimson dew
falls upon  white
roses, staining petals
blush pink         her cheeks

fiery, cries echoing upon
endless walkways, penetrating
the winter silence of the night sky.

Off with his head. Off with her head.
Off with their heads. Off. Off. Off. Off. Off.

The rhythm of clinging lockets clattering on marble floors,
strangled pleas (a please), heads thumping like metronomes

a wedding march through the chapel in pristine white.

Her heart has flown away — disappearing to
dance with stars through Hyperion foliage

She seeks it out, but her guards’ heartbeats
call to her like a sirens’ song — she
pulls them out, still beating,
blood caressing her fingers

They beat in staccato,
too-fast, too-warm.

Too late

it is gone gone gone.

Give me back my heart.