The kings and queens stood,
eyes as cold as the unsolved mysteries
of the doomed galaxy.
They danced to a tune of their own,
feet flying across the splatter-painted earth
and bodies fluctuating in the ashen air.
That night they walked home
their crowns put into a box
their song of laughter silenced
the blood washed from their shoes.
Then they smiled
and said they knew nothing –
even when the bruises began to show,
when I was a picture of royal purple and deep blue,
painted by their cruelty.