When my rib cage splits open
and displays the rotting creature inside
will you still love me?

When my bones are replaced with
flowering hemlock and nightshade
and my blood turns to muck,
Will you still love me?

When my skin becomes ash, my hair
turns to vines and my feet grow roots,
Will you still love me?

When nature prevails
and I am no longer me,
I must ask this of you:
Will you still love me?