Let fall what water will drop to taste,
The shadow from a woman’s edges
To blue eyes within a puddle of ivory.
I feel from them, the ripples of despair,
The love we behold, is a pain of memory,
Love has been bridged,
Over cherished hills of cherry tops.
Above a breast and a nipple,
And two lips that aim to kiss,
The temple of me, a man with much remorse.
Oh, my beauty, how you’ve grown
Your heart to meet the risings of this garden,
The detail of veins,
The intricacy in their weaving,
I feel their coming upon us.
As the many deceptions you’ve been enticed
By, to make another world.
And to the world you’ve created,
One of lust,
It is one of death, by my judgement.
Deny me no longer,
The one who aims,
To tear free that heart, and to pull loose,
Apart, so that blood flows free,
Each feeble pulsation, is a sordid one.
Death has made you fowl,
Enough for murder to be my art.
Love has become our fate,
Though, to what we make of blood,
With its many hues and shades,
Guarantee us to be opposites,
A hue and a shade.
Won’t we love, among so many birds?
Among so many voyeurs,
Won’t we love?