Her love spills out like scarlet seeds,
and red wine rolled on jealous tongues,
and gold leaves nestled in her hair.
It feathers during secret deeds

whilst breath is passed between two lungs.
Rubies cluster at her throat
like blood clots that her flesh forgot.
She draws him to her, limb in limb,
a desperate love dressed up in quilts.

The seeds that bloomed may sometime rot,
and candles die, and lust grow dim,
but I dreamt that he'll still gasp her name,
and she wish to be close to him.