The only thing that still remains
Is ache where it had been
She tastes with hollow throb that hole
God laced with black chagrin

She grasped the words of all the men
Who stopped in wand’ring by
And begged and begged and begged of them
That they would let her lie.
But gods and men are not as kind
As legends may imply.

And when she killed the things she loved,
And they in turn did sigh,
And sat in wait from words above
She found she could not die.