The Love Tree

                    The summer rain burns my flesh,
              And under its poisonous drops I crack and wither,
                                      To ash.
                A thousand romances feed on my remains;
                        My soul hung 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 torn me apart,
                And fed my punchline to the masses.

        But look; 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, all that remains;
It’s all yours.

                    And then you touch my cheek,
          And the poison and venom drains away and leaves me empty.
                    And then you touch my cheek,
                      And fill me with your icy love.