I am spread out like a *******
your own personal Jew and
while I bury my blood in your
thread count I knit one
perl two
Why do I let you annihilate me
like this then stitch me back
together?
You use the same holes each time
then ***** about their emptiness
leaving me no time to rebloom
Your garden looks like so many
dug up graves, your kind of love-
one prays while the other one brays
we cannot get enough of you
having left ourselves, bones and
all with nothing but our souls
to chew