Greensleeves

From a desire to melt,
she thrust her hands
into fire. Do you admire

the reckless? The damned,
who damn themselves?

Would you hide
a self-inflicted wound
though it defined you?

If my bed was an ocean
of blood, would you
swim in it?

What coat of white
shines colder than light,
whose bones chew through

delight like pain?

Who, but my lady
Greensleeves.