Purity.

My eyes have grown tired, but the urge to rest lay far beneath the surface of my skin.
They skim back and forth, taking in the sudden realization of what has fallen.
What you once longed to touch, to feel, to know.
A longing so delicate, but so strong.
Lift me up by the arch of my back, so I can be held within the architecture of your build.
Full, in my defence; serving as my castle.
All rooting from a body so pure, but not a heart.

I know what is to happen from here, I have foreseen it in my dreams.
Though you still coware beneath your words of denial.
I have seen the screams I am to bare but my body does not shake, only my voice.
Force down my arms and legs and tear apart my limbs, to numb what comes next.
A fear so intricate, but so haunted with its mocking simplicity.
Burning, to seclude my torture.
All streamed from a word so pure, but not for my heart.