She left me splattered against the afterimage
Of my own resolve to help her,
And pasteurized my love like milk to feed her greedy breast.
She laced my bloody fingers together,
Bound the joints and sinews of my confidence with eerie kindness.
As she let my life\'s blood spill, I became nothing but rotten meat against her.
I tore through muscle and marrow as I tried to sop up the mess,
But she stitched me up time and time again,
And I knew we were going to be killed by the shape of her love.
She made me want to be wounded, we both knew,
Because it was the only thing that could make me free.