my mosaic of bloodshed & battlefields; look at how holy, how sacrosanct your face is. oh, how you gaze at me with those war-ridden eyes of yours. cupid has left his most prominent, beautiful, rosewood bow on your tulip-kissed lips; war-cries etched into my skin, digging into yours, leaving hand prints so deep & red & wine-doused as if i clutched onto your divine material body for dear life. there is a sort of glorious, golden-gleaming beauty that gleams in your eyes, skin to how the stars of empyrean bat their orion-crafted eyes. oh, my sweet lady of justice, of freedom, i have prayed for myself more than humanly possible when i have willed to shed blood for you. all seven rings of heaven have heard the most fervent, rushed whispers of praise in my voice, begging to not die out of love for you; i know it eats at my frail heart, like some sort of devilish beast. let me wrap myself around you, my fingers in the gaps of your ribs. let me pull out your heart and devour it whole, like a reverent pomegranate with your blood dripping like the wine the nazarite conjured from water from my mouth, which tends to spill only obscenities. let me show you how even obscenities can be beautiful if i can use them for you. let me make my worthless skin a new layer of protection for you, let my existence be worthwhile. eat what remains of me, let me be one with my god.
