?

she lies cold and silent
a moth's wing for each staring eye
flash bulbs and prodding voices
disturb her demise
an open mouth locked in a last word
was it a yes or a no, a stay or a go,
a white line of powdered bliss
from collar bone to navel
waits for the demon behind the bullet
embedded in her left side
and as she lies there
in a crimson halo
her spirit claws at the ceiling tiles
the life she lived was not her own
why must she be damned
for the johns who ruled her.