5.28.2009

I Want You To Murder Me

Take your hands and put them in mine
Give me your kisses and power divine
To the stars, the nighttime sky
We dance, we dance, we cry, we cry
I run my hands along your hips
You bite me softly on my lips
And here I could die
And here we both die

[optional coda]
Oh my, 'twas only met'phorical
Oh love, this poem's rhetorical
I seem to be bleeding so liberally
Why d'you take things so literally