i am composed
of rotten pomegranates
a rich stench of sweetness emanates from my pores
loose-limbed,
i am glistening, in my prime, about to free fall into my own undoing, like a flower slick with nectar
just waiting for the bees to swarm
reaching towards the sun
and, in vain, turning towards you instead

and i'm crumbling into desecration,
my honeyed blood churning
tripled suns
I swear my body is illuminated
I swear that i smell of flowers
and i know that i have reached the point of no return

so tear me,
your slender fingers
severing me from everything
everything i'm rooted in,

tear me away from the dark musk of earth


and fill your senses with my loosened aroma
as i fall away from grace
crumble into fire

and turn away from the sun one last time