The summer rain burns my flesh.
Under its poisonous drops I crack
And wither,
To ash.
A thousand romances feed on my remains.
My soul hangs out to dry.
Alone, I swing,
In the shade of the Love Tree,
Decaying, my sweet stench nauseating.
Look at this corpse, this cadaver, this sultry set of bones,
Look what you have made me; this, this my love is all yours.
Every scrap of flesh and bone
And every dried drop of blood.
This is what I owe to you, this is what you’ve made for me.
A decaying fetid joke, you’ve mocked my heart,
And fed my punchline to the masses.
Ripe and juicy, hanging from this bough.
Do it, do it, take it!
Take my heart, consume me again.
It’s whole, the body has died but the soul remains.
It shall poison you with the ache of lost years
And sicken you to your rotten core.
Savour every mouthful my love.
Lick the blood from your lips,
Taste my bitterness and all that remains.
It’s all yours.
You touch my lips,
And the poison and venom drains away and leaves me empty.
And then
You touch my cheek,
And soothe me with your icy love.
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