Your love shines emerald,
Green vines woven into a prosperous veil
Brimming with vitality, hearth and sorrow
Flowers hiss from the thorns
Buried deep in your pitiful veins
Gushing with love, your aura shines
Exalted.

Your love shines the color of wind,
Breezy and hollow,
Shroud of tangible cries,
The shrieking sorrow of banshee’s
Gushing from your veins, the crimson sunset
Turns you tumbleweed golden.

Bring me the sun, O’ exalted lover. Your heels taste of brimstone, my tongue hisses from the sweltering heat. Blisters ooze sanguine goop, plastering my tongue disfigured, acidic tar devouring my flesh. Yet however much melted flesh may drip from my porcelain bones, I keep pulling myself deeper into the vice of your love. And so, I melt. Becoming eerily disfigured, you sculpt the hazardous puddles of flesh into figures far too divine, not even Aphrodite herself could reject such an offering.