I loved him and he loved poetry
he loved me and I loved the rosary
around his razor-nicked throat, I lit a candle for him
below the window, and I let him in
just as god told me not to, I let him in
through frosted windows and blood pacts
he found sick ways to keep my heart intact
guns and langer's lines, his lips and poisoned wines
he slid his hand into my pocket and took the church key
wrote about a girl with blue eyes and told me it was me -
and that night I had dream that he let me die
he let me die, just as god had told him not to, he let me die.