(no subject)

[velvatier]

my love, she hath no beauty,
leaves her garden overgrown,
her face a'twist with sorrow
for she loves me all alone

her eyes - a glass-blue wonder,
her hair hung like splintered lead,
her collar edged and riven
veined with scars that never bled

my love deracinates the roses,
finding joy in their duress
nettle's murdered all the flowers,
and the ivy's in excess

her flesh - once torn asunder,
now stitched taught by leather thread,
o', her body, 'twas a burden
as i laid her on the bed

my love sleeps upon a thicket,
all entwined with thorns ground fine
and yet still i lay beside her,
let her tie my wrists in twine

what a horror came upon me,
to see her first all shorn and raw,
her flesh a detestation
her parted lips, a gaping maw

my love's mouth, it bore a serpent
and she nursed it at her breast,
i prayed death soon be upon me-
she laid that beast upon my chest

i thought only of the garden -
the serpent rived my ribs apart
bone in briar stretched like sinew,
as the snake excised my heart

my love's face grew soft and pallid -
i passed on to join the dead
i fear i have no soul to love you
was the only thing she said

and the garden's still untended,
orchids sink into the mire
and nestled in the ivy
hangs my heart upon the briar.