Midnight

So little love in the heart of thee,

that you should be afraid it might

dry and crumble

so shall I devour your bloody soul

as maggots do feast upon

the soured flesh

of some animal corpse

left to rot in an overgrown forest

as blind hunters pass mildly by

and never see what I’ve done

to your decaying body.

My soul grows hungry

for the taste of thy blood,

raw in thy moves

and soiled in thy motives,

dare to bare before me

these empty gifts of everlasting affections

which shall not be cast away

but buried for the sake of my weary heart

which grows tired of torment and mistreatings.

- Alexia