If There Be Love
If there be love,
let us marry our heads
to jagged stone —
surgically carving the hearts
hidden within our depths.
Let us sow what could’ve been,
take chance with all our vanities
before passion turns to consequence.
Let us dig our graves this very moment,
arrange the canvas bloom,
hasten the stones along our waists
and submerge our young —
a mercy we were never shown.
Delicately placing our lips
on the wielder of memory,
casting the seedlings
to the depths.
Let us bathe in boiling wax,
hardening our skin —
so that when it comes
we are already gone.
But if love not be…
then why need we suffer,
if passion and fire
never graced us
their wound?
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