I am but borrowed passions,
Everything a gesture
To impress unrequited lovers,
My lips touched by corpses;
Caressed by the dead
As an object of ***.

Each kiss poisons--
Hollows this person,
Until she is naught but body--
Skin, *******, and withered bones--
Lying in a coffin, legs exposed;  
She'd call it necrophilia
But life had left, long, long ago.