Those yellow lips, they open

in perfect mockery of my inability to resist. For the hundredth time,

maybe the thousandth, they haunt me 

with their sweet nothings, 

delicate at first and then sharp as jagged glass, 

though her stem bears no thorns.  

She is hungry tonight and I will feed.  

Her petals grow 

and then they show their teeth. 

I am frightened and in awe;

I am in awe of how little I am frightened.  

Her whispers grow louder, become deafening and I know it is time 

to offer myself as I always do.  Tonight 

her jaws will masticate me into a pulp 

and my blood will nourish the soil beneath us.  

It is an agonizing ecstasy to break down

into the basest parts of being.  

But tomorrow, tomorrow 

she will put me back together again.  

Make me whole.  Help me blossom anew.  

Let me hear her song; feel her petals 

as they devour me once more