Note Thirty

The boys want

To touch your body,

I want to touch your

Soul,

 

But you don’t see me,

As the boys

Make you weep,

 

They pull the

Precious petals from you

Like a child

Breaking the holiness

Of a rose,

 

You bleed for them

Scars are your attire,

 

The list of lovers inked on

Your heart for me

solely to read,

 

Inquiry on the names

My fingers dance on them

You give a hushed moan

At my touch,

 

You face me with

The perfect tears of a lost

Child,

 

“Must we go?”

 

We must

 

You give me a hug

And I hold you

Tightly,

 

Never to let go

We as lie in the grave

My scythe at the rest

As I kiss you,

 

They touched your body

But I held your soul.