Honeyed and Sulky

Let her taste the juice of pomegranates from my lips; dig into the pulp of my sternum and eat the seeds of my soul, she will drink the deep red and bittersweet liquid from my mouth and revel in the toxin and macabre and this is how I know she is mine
that she is of light and walks the path of holy men
yet visits me in the dark of graveyards and commits sin amongst the dead,
as I am one of them that is buried in dirt and walked upon by many sets of feet rolling restless in my earthen coffin reaching a dead hand to the heavens for a prayer
it is a sign that she is woefully becoming mine that she sees me in every pool of blood and rattle of thunder every midnight hour in the bottom of every coffee cup and thinks of me every time she inhales the wisps of cigarette smoke
that my leather jacket becomes like a home to her and four a.m is now the most bewitching time because she will imagine me by her side and smell the whisper of menthol the trace of coffee on a warm tongue
See I will let her devour me wholly and unforgivably because she is the undying sun that loves the hidden moon she is the unholy but the everlasting star a sinning saint the flicker of bonfires
I can tell she is mine because she'd crawl into the coffin at my side and show me the heavens with only her own light †