Quiet now, my pretty darling.
You served until the end,
There was nothing more that you could do
And there’s nothing more that I can mend,
But I’d gladly cut my hands
Upon those jagged shards
I’ll help collect that heart of ice
And thaw it to that brittle core.
And here we’ll plant the seed, my love,
And one day,
Perhaps not soon,
Some violent bloom will burst forth,
And sow that hurt on the wind.
It will drift to some far off scape,
While we drink and dream,
And I’ll kiss your neck
So soft and sweet
And whisper all my darkest secrets,
And stain your lips violet,
With the passion of my kisses.
Let me bruise you, pretty girl,
And sing your corpse to sleep.