we flood thee
roots to the very
swell of bone
skin to very bark
of soul
flesh as tangible as
personal truth
but now we tire
and you none the wiser
as once we guarded
your affections and your gaze
no further shall we repair
now belief and disbeliever
we depart and shall
remain ever departed
blame what chances
you denied
when you and your
throne sat high
bones crash
under the pulses
and machinery of life
decay decay decay
such reluctance
what nails rend and flair
sense wed in a torn bed
remind you for their
lack of recompense