Let me be yours... let your final breaths be a lament of my name,  
A soft echo on your lips, as life gently fades,  
Let me be the delicate fruit between your fingers,  
Squeezed of its flesh, essence seeping through,  
Devoured with a hunger only love can birth,  
Lick the nectar off your fingers,  
Savor me in gentle breaths, each one a lingering taste.

Let me dwell in your mind, a constant presence,  
In the midnight of your thoughts, in the afternoon haze,  
And in all your morning glory, when the world wakes anew,  
Let me be the sunlight on your skin,  
As spring stretches into the warm embrace of summer,  
Welcomed as an old lover returning home.

Let me whisper the sickly sweet words that haunt your dreams,  
Let my voice be the echo that fills your nights,  
The longing that curls around your heart,  
Let me be the sweetness that lingers, even in your sorrow,  
A love too tender to ever truly fade.

My head rested gently upon your shoulder's grace, Amidst the kitchen's warmth, in an intimate embrace.

You spoke of Abramović and Ulay's artful love affair, While I listened, entranced, with a silent prayer.

As the water simmered, poised to reach its peak, I absorbed each word, feigning understanding.

Your gestures, a symphony, as you traced the scene, Fingers dancing,  in a love unseen, an intimate dance just for me.

I pondered, as your touch lingered on mine,
Was our love akin to theirs, a complex design?

Filled with art and impediment, like a tangled thread, Were you showing me their image, with secrets unsaid?

Was it a subtle warning, a silent plea to flee? Or a gentle nudge towards what must be?

As you held me close, your grasp firm and tight, I wondered if our end was nearing, in the dimming light.

Your fingers, reluctant to stray from my skin, A silent testament to the love we'd once been.

Yet even as you checked the stove's steady flame, I sensed the hesitance, the unspoken claim.

For the music played softly, a melancholy tune, Unheard by my ears, yet felt in the room.

Unbeknownst to me, we began a slow dance, The tender steps of a breakup's advance.

So we swayed in silence, to the rhythm of a heart's lament, Each step a farewell, in love's testament.

In the dance of love's end, we found our song, Unraveling slowly, where once we belonged.

Each day I mourn, I rot within my cell,  
A prisoner to my own foul decay,  
Dazed and confused, repulsed by the display.
Sweet is the stench of garments worn too long,  
Of rotting fare beside my fevered bed,  
A rank perfume from A quiet tomb where all but hope has fled.

Beneath the sheets, I sink to shadow's maw,  
Into the void, where nothing else is fed,  
But the cold embrace of self and flaw.  
My flesh fused with cloth in grim despair,  
A grotesque union 'twixt the flesh and grave,  
Where I consume myself, a feast of air.

The night becomes a grim theatre where my repressed sorrows play out.
A mournful tale of life and death unfolds,  
A spark, once brilliant, now fades to a mere wisp,  
A fleeting ember in the shadowed night.

And thus, in sorrow’s grip, I waste away,  
A ghostly shadow of what once was whole.  
The creeping rot consumes both night and day,  
Till nothing but my wretched bones remain.  
Each breath I draw, a prelude to my fall,  
Each tear, a testament to endless pain.  

A mirror shows my face, a hollow mask,  
Reflecting not the youth I used to be,  
But haunted eyes that beg the final task—  
To free this soul from torment's cruel decree.  
In darkness deep, I yearn for dawn’s soft light,  
To break these chains that bind me to the night.

If God's love was true in its purest form and he truly had grace I would not find myself in this place.

Gold on his fingertips
His fingertips thus basked in gold
Gold all beneath his shirt
A golden chain to hide the hurt
Gold all between my hips
A golden flower now its his

I was the first to fall in love
But it’s inevitable that you’ll be the first to leave.

In the labyrinth of self, I wander alone,
Seeking the essence of who I've known.
Yet she eludes me, in shadows unseen,
And I, a lost soul, where have I been?
Oh, where is she, the one I've known?
And where have I gone, in shadows thrown?

Make me your midnight muse.

Think of me when darkness falls, and you're alone. Feel my ghostly touch, like a whisper, a moan.

My breath upon your face, a sigh, a tease. A tender reminder, of the love that seeks release.

Howl your secrets to me, in the quiet of the night, Each word a sacred offering, as my soft figure dances in your sight.

Break me open, like a vessel of clay,
And slip your fingers in, in the softest way.

Make me anew, with each touch, each caress,
Start over again, in love's sweet duress.

Again, Again, and Again.

Oh, how my soul trembles with the hunger to consume the depths of your being, to taste the bitterness, the sins, the horrors, the dreams, and the desires, that paint the intricate mosaic of your humanity and the very makings of your being.

I crave to taste the marrow of your morality, to savour the darkness and light that compose your intricate tenderness.

To replace the hollow echoes within me with the fiery intensity of your passions, to feel your touch ignite the dormant embers of my soul, and to revel in the chaos of our shared existence.

Show me the scars that map the landscape of your agony, let me bear witness to the storms raging within you, for I crave nothing more than to be consumed by the tempest of your sentiments.

Desire courses through my veins like a raging river, A relentless force that knows no bounds, it consumes every fibre of my being, leaving me breathless in its wake… A chilling admission of devotion.

Aching for the ecstasy of your surrender to your indignities, to be consumed by the flames of our passion, and reborn in the ashes of our love.
Desire, relentless desire, how it consumes my very being.

I still dream of you sometimes…

The great hills in your green eyes as you took in my figure like you saw what I could not.

Each stroke a testament to love's embrace, A bittersweet masterpiece painted upon my face.

Your gentle nature and the way it flowed through your fingertips, from a pen to a brush, to my skin. Akin to nature's grace, in its rhythm divine.

You're gone now but I still feel you watching me, your soft breath against my face as I sleep.

Your illusory presence, in my thoughts, do creep, As I lay in solitude, in sorrow's keep.

I've cried for you many times but that night I wept like a widow in the dark sheets.

Your silhouette stares at me from the wall across our bed but now, but I lay on the floor. You no longer move to lay me to bed you just stare a ghostly glare.
No more warm skin, no more sweet vows just spectral figures and still air.

I whisper to you as he lays next to me, whoever he is for the night, Breathing low, hard, and forlorn.  
But all I hear is the faded wallpaper around me as it whispers, the faucets of my old sink as they scream and the hiss of the cold air as it strokes my lips.

It comes in waves the longing a great tidal wave of despair and craving, laden with hunger and plea.

Once entwined, a symphony of flesh and soul, bound by love's fervour, an eternal toll. Yet now, torn asunder by oceans deep and mountains' peaks. Each wave a lament, each valley a sigh.

Do you, in the shadow of the night seek my face?

In her whispered breaths do you find my trace?  

I no longer sleep, I am a carnal vessel, a restless wanderer I roam. Was it all a fantasy of my own making, just a mere illusion cast by a broken mind, do I remember us wrong?

Just plastic memories drifting within my mind, manmade, ever-living, and incessant. My dreams fill with the sombre memories, spectral in sensation.

Reminiscence of fingers that took, until I had no more, leaving me yearning, craving, at love's shattered door.

So, I whisper to you, with the darkness holding me tight, in hopes that somehow, our souls may reconcile.

But until then, I'll linger in this bittersweet reverie, with whispers for you in the deep night.

You, the shepherd, guiding with gentle hand,
You, the abattoir, where destinies are planned.
You, the quiet, serene in your might,
You, the roaring sea, in the still of the night.

And I, your dulcet lamb, innocent and meek,
Trusting in your guidance, so pure and yet so bleak.
Unaware, I followed, to the slaughter's door,
Where you would claim all, leaving nothing more.

My heart, my soul, the essence of my being,
Strung upon your thread, like a puppet on a stage,
Only to be severed, in love's bitter cage.

As I lay, upon the cold, silent floor, I found solace in knowing, I was no more. For in that cold sweet moment, in the stillness profound, I embraced my fate, upon holy ground.

Watching the crimson from my flesh and bones bathe the floor-like soil welcoming rain after a year of thirst. And now, as my blood mingles with the earth, each drop a prayer of life, in death's quiet mirth.

Stolen kisses wavering in the soft rain,  
You kissed me just to kiss me, light, feathered, and pure,  
As if the sky itself whispered our names,  
In a language only we understood.

The world held its breath,  
Each drop a secret, every sigh a promise,  
But the rain, like time, slipped through our hands,  
Carrying away the taste of your lips,  
And the warmth that lingers, even now.

I find myself chasing echoes,  
Searching for the shimmer of that moment,  
When your lips met mine in a fleeting dance,  
A tender theft, leaving me with the sweetest ache.  

You kissed me just to kiss me,  
And I’m left dreaming of the rain,  
Where every drop still sings of you.

For you, I am sweet, virtuous, and pure. For you, I am a creature soft and tenuous, for you I am weak and supple. For you, I am perfect. I am whatever you wish me to be.

I find myself putting on a show for eyes that do not see me as human. My movements are rehearsed, not for the joy of expression, but for the survival of a woman in a world that prefers her to be spectacle.

Slowly slipping the silk of my shoulders teasing no one but the walls. The air around me is cool, indifferent, The only thing that touches me without expectation.

I am a wisp of flesh bound to earth only by wanting. A hollow figure made whole by his eyes, seeking to hold me to drag me here in this world of flesh, But I am not of it. I am thought. I am soul. I am the poetry of my own being, I am more than the silence he assumes speaks only of longing.

But I will always be flesh, The embodiment of desire, A symbol, a thing-never a whole. An empty chalice into which he pours The wine of his longing, never wondering If the vessel itself thirsts for something more.

And so the silk falls, Again and again,
For an audience that never understands
The torment of playing a role
That was never meant to be mine.

Death he follows me wherever I go.
Wether it be in the depths of the forest
Or the deepest of seas death he follows me wherever I go.
He follows me in my dreams painted with the face of an angel.
As we dance on the dirt of the earth, death he follows me wherever I go.
He follows me into the darkness and covers me with sadness, I tell him I don’t want him while he screams that he loves me death he follows me wherever I go.
He lays next to me as I wake and sings songs of the days to come, death he follows me wherever I go.
He wraps his arms around my body and bores his fingers in my soul, death he follows me wherever I go.
He whispers in my ear when I try to speak and wraps his hands around my throat death he follows me wherever I go.
He lays on top of me as I sleep running his wicked finger down my body death he follows me wherever I go.
He pushed himself into my life and I fell in love with him. Death I follow him wherever he goes.

What is love
Nothing but a myth of the mind
It is the fault of Cupid and his kind
That this love is so hard to find.
It is not within the soul body nor mind
When I hear of Cupid I think of a true mastermind.
We roam the world looking for it without realising we are blind 
He shot us with his ***** arrow and turned us into mankind.