+ sweetheart, we love you +

it's hard to believe when someone turns on you,

but when they do -- what you can't believe is that you hadn't seen it coming the whole time.

what good is blood if there's not crimson in it left?

what good are you, if you can't even take a step for yourself?

do you know any piece of your structure to be true?

she came to me

feeble, and weak, and singing of the kingly.

she gave me flowers to whisper, wet, the dusk to sleep;

and swords and crystals to protect what she gifted.

little lovelies.

sweet

in a perfect, tiny row.

as she bashed their heads

to bits,

and iron-red-milk spilled from every pore.

and when she knelt down to their mess,

she missed them for the first time.

and held their nimble toes.

///////



"That night when he went back to his hotel, he wept for his dead children and all the other castrated boys, for his own lost youth, for those who were young no longer and those who died young, for those who fought for Salvador Allende and those who were too scared to fight."

Roberto Bolaño, Last Evenings on Earth (2006)