She is of a delicate diamond
so intensely gorgeous
and brittle
lined and flowing
with flaming crimson gold
as that threadbare heart races
to keep time
with the panic
digging through her head
and her half-opened eyes
endeavor to connect
unfamiliar shapes
in an idle effort
to anchor her filthy soul
to the flesh that defies her
The puddle of gleaming liquid life
in which she lies
serves only to accent her pulcritude
as it escapes its captor,
with a fury so deliciously
tantalizing,
and celebrates with the soil
whilst candlelight dances
upon its aspect
She yearns for you, my friend
She can feel your breath on her neck
She can feel your kiss rushing and enflaming
her core
and its endless web of veins
Death, she comes soon my love
Be patient
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