All the poison from the petals.
Did I paint the doorknobs with venom? Did I watch a slow death unravel before my eyes?
How could I weep as they took my daughter away? We were the vikings, remember.
I traded my heart in for heartbreak's revenge, and I lost it all in the end.
But behind bars and after the assaults of angry women, I sit deadly lost in reverie.
Of the mornings I would bathe in milk. My coppery skin immersed in white liquid. Beads of it clinging to my lips.
If humans were born of flesh,
then I of milk and oleander leaves, I fed instead on blood to breathe.