Onto my flesh, under those wonderful
Green rivers, is your blood,
Slowly suffocating

In a body no longer yours.
That's your legacy.

Those pine tree hairs, no longer *****
At the thought of your

Name.
That's my remembrance of
You to me.
My goblin in the night.

My pact with you is broken.
I buried you six feet under,
Another six more, to
Be

Sure.
I buried your name here,
My dead rose.
I've stopped watering you long ago.

I suppose it's the day you told me
To take care.
Die, now.
Now die.

My tongue no longer enjoys your taste,
Bitter,
Like a pianist, with out his lover to
Play for;
I felt that alone.

Oh, but no more.

Die now, die.