Dear John:*
Do you?
     *I do.
     I did.
     I'm done.
     Overdone.
     Undone. Metaphysically strained.
     And I need a thermometer to check my rarity.
     I'm developing a crispness
     And drying out, in want of basting.
     I'm done, John.

Sincerely,
Mary Donne

Set ablaze the blood in my veins
I'll turn your roses red
Passion anger and lust
We burn upon the son of dawns hands
Sin and ***
The morning star calls us away
Beads of sweat
I'll bite from your neck
Silk skin rather angelic
Tainted by carnal desire
The serpent brings temptation
Red
Red
Red