Eleven

What are you?

Are you as essential 

As the pencil is 

To paper? 

As the lunar light 

Is to raven wingèd

Night?

As, later in the coming 

Morn, the dawn 

Once more will break, and 

When broken, there won't 

Be no light no more. So 

Darling, please, be 

My very own heroin: pick

Out a vein and shoot 

Your life therein.

Let me watch and, as 

I grow stronger,

You'll wither, linger, die

In time no thicker 

Than my little finger.

Once you swore you'd  

Be my friend until 

The very end of ends, 'till,

Though I'd've lost my all, still 

You'd cling, giving no heed 

To how feeble were my

Shredded leavings.

Now, and as Desolation is

My witness, I see

You strive to swim away.

Well, my, my, my, my dear,

Let me toss you some 

Comfort: this lifesaver, custom

Made of lead. It strikes me 

As the perfect payment for 

So casual a betrayal,

A phoney kiss so far 

Off the mark

That even Judas, in 

His well-earned heated pit,

Can't help but bray with 

Raucous laughter,

Though he thrash in

Agony eternal forever after.

So, grasp now my gift, my

Dearest one, drown deep and 

Fast, for there's but a finite

Limit to how long I 

Can or canst keep my 

Righteous vengeance 

In restraint. God may, in

Deed, forgive but yet

From true forgetfulness 

We both refrain.