We Wrote Each Other in Blood

We licked ink from our open wrists, a contract signed in salt and longing. Our syllables stitched into sinew, each verse a gash we chose. You crawled inside my name, built a cathedral from my echo. I slept in your apology, a pillow soaked with dreams that died in the cradle. What is marriage if not mutual decay? We baptized ourselves in entropy. In every moan, a gospel; in every silence, a dirge. We made a sonnet of ruin, willingly, gladly, dying syllables on each other’s tongues.