I thought for sure our love had died
I watched it waste away,
Rattling around my head
Before the long decay.

I saw the absence in the eyes
I touched the empty skin,
The cold was of a special stock
Just like the weight of sin.

I burned a stigma on its breast
And poisoned it with despair.
The taboo it bore bled it dry.
The flesh would not repair.

It wasn't till I saw it there
As ragged empty bones,
And felt the hallow space between
I knew it was my own.