• he is scarred, torn, and guilty

    but still his eyes are a shining green,

    as if he's forgotten yesterday.

    but his arms, slim and white,

    and poised among his body,

    where his hands, smothered in blood, cover his tearstained face.

    "i am not the only one who plays with knives,"

    says the girl,

    in decay,

    whose heart was adorned with hyacinths.