Bleeding from every pore, is that what adore. Strip the skin from you writs and undress the innocence. The hourglass forms you over, dripping the liquid of life. Wings unfolding, let my hold them, caress the bone. Blood shot eyes and your face cry’s. Burt from the fires, your char draws like coal onto me. The black lines dividing, slicing my memory. Your chest opens, dripping black. Pouring from you, the lies the pain. The holy flames, within, obscuring my eyes. Pull back your skin, drop to the floor, a limp prayer. Halo dimming, gates closing. A fraction of a second, my headstone, lays open, you may come in.

poem bc why not