I etch a scar from my heart
Transfer it to you, the blue that coats it
coaxes venom back into snakes.
Ink poisoning is better than lead poisoning,
the moistening of lips from the ink
sinks into the bloodstream more positive
than the poisoning of lead into the blood.

I won't colour in between the lines,
I'm combining the pain, the mess
the dressed up confessions of sickness,
I'm the wicker of a candle set on fire
and you are the canvas I will burn.
You may think you're the subject
but we are no couplet, you're capulet
And I a Montague, and upon this view
I will cherish memories of alchemy & of poison.
You're roaming in the background
across the scenic route of my painting,
to be frank you're staining my conscience
to be honest you're the opus that feels so soulless,
the hopeless denial.