Wrap me in whatever you can lend me
For I have brought death to my scenery.
I do not wish to be kissed by the moon,
Nor the feathers of ravens.
Though, this pillow beneath my head
Seems to be filled with blackness.
Don’t you want to hold me?
Don’t you want to lift me
Beyond where I’ll go,
Where songs do not snow
The notes down upon my nose,
For all I smell is decay?
Please take me in arms as brittle as the tears you have wept,
Place me in your heart, so that I may
Receive exquisite comfort.
Bleed me no remorse,
For I have wilted.
Please not, the future.