By: Linda M Crate

i fancied you an angel
but i was wrong
your halo
is broken and your wings
are black,
the song on your lips
is the blue lipped death you
wish upon all your
victims;
and i was no exception
except i told myself years ago i’d
be no one’s victim
so i broke through the ice
of your indifference
burned through your memory
with my summer’s wings
for i am a raven: summerborn
slumbering in the rays of sun star
gold;
and you told me you were a wolf,
but wolves are loyal
you were but a dishonest fox
trying to tear away my pretty little
red heart so that you could
have a momument
in your garden of dead roses—
you exchanged lust for love
mistook them for
the same thing,
uncaring
that it was my heart you broke
because you no longer have a heart
just a hole where it used to
be.