1. I asked him for it.For the blood, for the rust,for the sin.I didn’t want the pearls other girls talked about,or the fine marble of palaces,or even the roses in the mouth of servants. I wanted pomegranates—I wanted darkness,I wanted him.So I grabbed my king and ran awayto a land of death,where I reigned and people whisperedthat I’d been dragged.I’ll tell you I’ve changed. I’ll tell you,the red on my lips isn’t wine.I hope you’ve heard of horns,but that isn’t half of it. Out of an entire kingdomhe kneels only to me, calls me Queen, calls me Mercy.Mama, Mama, I hope you get this.Know the bed is warm and our hearts are cold,know never have I been betterthan when I am here.Do not send flowers,we’ll throw them in the river.‘Flowers are for the dead’, ‘least that’s whatthe mortals say.I’ll come back when he bores me,but Mama,not today.
