I can feel your weary muscles beneath my skin.
I can taste your everlasting heartbeat.
Wrapped up with a bow amongst my sin.
Your mother would be proud.
Your father would offer a Cheshire's grin.

Alone, written with charcoal and sweat.
Glance into a foil-wrapped mind.
I know it, your eyes grow wet.
You slice voraciously into your flesh.
We shall find the root, until you forget.