Tomb

Dragging
Bloated corpses
Like the cruelest
Bridal veil.
Cursing crucifixes
Under my breath.
Mumbled lament,
Dressed in
Lachrymose
Regret.
I am the
Black orchid
Blooming in the
Wound.
I would pour salt
In the earth of
Your solace.
I would cut down
Your love
And give you
A tomb.

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