The day you cut me wide open,
I bled tears from a hideous face
And pure prisoned blood from my sealed benevolent cocoon.
I was not as pitiable as pathetic purple onions,
So you wouldn't weep for me.
The ruffled white sheets mourned with still ripples,
For I was a cruel painter, who have painted her
With the colour of doom,
You troubled my secret sacred place with your ritual.
You were the herbalist who reared the fatal black cock
With the beak of a razor.
You pierced me,
After idiocies of incantations.
I was gullible,
Because incantations are meant to be charmingly convincing.
It was much more than your words that lured me,
So I endured the pain,
Because pleasure is greater than pain,
The act of two, greater than one in disdain.
This once I was lain,
Was the day you cut me wide open.