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A POEM WRITTEN IN DEAREST BLOOD

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Dearest,
The cut on your skin
Is my love from within.

Gently from it flood
Feathers of life and love,
Drenching me in blood
Of a wedding dove.

The same blood that folly free
In these vessels of madness
Tethers you and me
To this illustrious darkness

For your wound is but an echo
Merely of my desire to be
Feeling your rapturous sorrow,
Your true love for me.

Dearest,
For my heart you stole,
I will shackle your soul.