guilt gathers my thoughts to you

it is still -
as a lake in high summer,

no breeze to ripple
the surface of the water,
glistening brilliant blue
under the clear skies reflection,

birds are singing overhead,
I long for their freedom and song,

but then they turn on me,
and peck at these thoughts

until they come apart,

a piñata heart,

split wide - crimson rivers of
holy wine running from my chest

into your cup.

it is your turn, now,

so drink me down,

bleed me dry as I have you,

let me shrivel up and die -

heartless.

like the woman you think I am,

I will do that for you,

I can do that for you,

(at least)