she used to be a collector of the shards of broken hearts
but now she collects whole, happy hearts, the hearts she's stolen
jumping in jars on her bookshelf.
her petal lips part in a demure smile
she shows her teeth because she no longer has to hide ****** fangs
her delicate hands are covered in baby-soft skin,
washed clean of bloodstains
she likes to bake now
instead of ****
and she writes poetry
instead of obituaries
