should I feel honored
by the way you’ve
romanticized
my tragedy?

profited from it

carved out my flaws
with steady resolve

painted over them
as if the brush and scalpel
were one in the same

how long will I bleed
for your entertainment?

divine inspiration does not
make you a god,
my love

you cannot kiss cold lips
and breathe life into them

do not deceive yourself

though they worship you
for your crime,
we both know it is I
who will live and die
a thousand deaths
by your hand

make me your art,
but do not act surprised
when they forget
you've trapped prometheus
in canvas

immortality was never
yours
to begin with