Death Rides a Pale Horse

She admired her handiwork
from atop a war-horse steed
reflected in post-rain pools.

Memories, eviscerated
on steaming battlefields--
lifeless, finally.

She'd sliced them out
then stitched herself back together
better than before

But left a small opening
to remove her heart
should it get broken once more

She wiped the death from her sword,
and with the pale horse
rode into the unknown.