The Queen sat alone; calm and contemplative
Her King’s sword felt heavy in her hands
Thoughts drifting in and out of reason
Burdened with love — and its complications

The Queen gathered her remaining strength
And plunged the sword into her lover’s chest
Another death in the name of love and lust
Another murder at the hands of the Queen

Yet the Queen didn’t kill the King that night
She had already killed him many years before
He died in the same manner as her new lover
Surrounded by jealous eyes and a broken heart.

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A poem by Jason S. Sullivan, 11-12-20