My love,
I do not apologise for the following absence of decorum.
For I have been tormented by your lustrous necromancy.
I wish not to die...
But
I cannot deny you'd look marvellous drenched in my misery,
My blood dewing on your lashes.
My movements are delicate as a harp's cry
But if you cut my capillaries...
Why, I'd crescendo into orchestra.
Darling, don't toy with me across the subject
The one that always aches my brain
Hardly can I handle its consensual mentions
and the non consensual quirks make me lose consciousness.
Still, they sting like incompetent honeybees
Giving away their life to fulfil a small homicidality.
How would you end me?
A bullet, too quick
A flame, too wild
Would you grasp my undreaded locs and bash my skull to rubble?
Would you flay me like paper mache?
Detach my limbs individually?
No.
I only deserve the chopping block.
Debaucherous butchery.
The death I've always asked for.
My manic and their knife
Nothing more.
Bring forth your pain, let cometh your woes into my stomach
Puncturing my perfect placenta.
Savouring the love you bestow upon your Cadaver.
Watch my eyes, wide as moons,
As you take away what you gave me.
Slowly, my innards spill to the ground
You are feral in your hunger.
YOU ARE READING
An Enigma Is Too Much For A Cat To Eat
Poetrypoetry from the raw heart of a teenage girl. I wrote this poetry collection throughout my junior year of high school, when so much change was underneath the sun's aura. In and out of depression, in and out of the psych ward, I survived the first ha...
