I awake to the sweetness of your deserting
Scalp raw where you tore off clumps of my hair
A stinging manifestation of how I cannot get you off my head.
On my sheets, the bloodstains have dried a rich chocolate color
Summoning the rest of my sap to flow forth.
My lips have the familiar taste of rust where you bit them.
I lick them and it is your tongue that I am reminded of.

You adorned my skin with bruises,
Just now turning royal purple against the black and
blue and yellow of days before.
I trace their patterns, pressing here and there as
I do with embroidered silk.

The aching becomes your fingers caressing me once more.
Like a love song, your curses ricochet in my ear.
Each syllable of profanity sending pulses of heat through
my body to the beat of a tango.

I am the clay whereupon you leave your imprint.
I am the vessel that turns your sweat, your saliva, your
urine into wine.
I am the well from which you draw sanguine nectar.
I am the bough you break to partake of the forbidden fruit.

My flesh is your ambrosia.
My tears are your precious gems.
My pain is your delectation.
My cessation is your genesis.

Should you feel the urgency to heed the carnal calling,
Pick the flesh I left underneath your fingernails.
Or return to this fetid bed

Where I will lie half-conscious and dilapidated,
Where I will corrode slowly in the mixture of our semen,
Where you will love me nonetheless

As I will you.

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