If I could, I would.
I'd demolish you with the things I can do.
You remake me,
I'll remake you.
If I could, I would.
I'd obliterate all that came before;
Your past, your pain, they'd be no more.
Every brick, every beam, every shard of broken glass....
I'd renovate your body, if you would only ask...
If I could, I would.
I'd enjoy the destruction of all that came before;
Every molecule of pain would be no more.
I'd break down your walls,
assault your salty skin,
make you feel whole,
make you fragile again.
I want to smother your psyche,
make you beg for mercy.
Nothing would be same, nothing would remain.
Beneath our heat, all that was solid melts into thick air.
My mouth swallows your pain,
consumes your frame.
And there we are: destroyed.
Neither who we were, nor who we're yet becoming.
Through our destruction,  
we're remade anew.
You remake me,
I'll remake you.

I will tie you up
and torture you,
in all the best ways.
It could last hours,
possibly even daze.
I will leave you dehydrated,
aching,
sticky,
and sore.
I will leave you physically unable to say you want more.
It will be too hard,
too soft,
j u s t right,
not enough,
tease tease choke bite spit gag pull              s q u e e z e.

Lie back, if you please.

Pull me down.
Hold me c l o s e.
You're the one,
I want the m o s t.

Breathe in deep.
Pull your h a i r.
You wanna be here,
I wanna be t h e r e.

What's old is dust.
And today is n e w.
You remake me.
I'll remake y o u.

**** and kiss,
and tongue and *******.
This is fate,
with a little l u c k.

Take me to the river,
wash me clean,
wash me clean.
I want the stain of her removed,
from every scrap of everything.
Take me to the river,
wash me clean,
wash me clean.
Singe her stench from my soul,  
burn every fiber of my being.

Take me to the river,
wash me clean,
wash me clean.
I want to be free of her memory,
and the song that we'd sing.
Singing, Oh, Lord,
Grant me renewal,
give me grace.
I can still taste your love,
though now it’s a bitter taste.

The sound of silence is a penetrating thing.
It rings in my ears; it hurts, and it stings.
The sound of silence is a terrible thing.
The notes of death a swan song sings.
The sound of silence is a telling thing.
It whispers, "it's over, it was only a fling."
Perhaps there's something else it means?
Can silence actually be a gift of sorts?
Her way of saying, "I care, of course."
"I care enough not to call,
not to text,"
no sounds at all.
If you love something, let it go.
It's a catchphrase proverb we all know.
We've heard it before,
and we know it makes sense.
Letting go has a sound,
the sound of silence.