My Last Breath, Is Yours

I took ... her virginity, as though it was not already taken,
but not with a soul that desired women;
rather, with the never withering black roses of a haunted April.
We nearly drowned in promiscuous rain that blanketed our skin
in a cold, burning lament.

Her hands collided with the moon,
as it resembled her face; a mirror made of stone
hanging delicately in a wreath of barbed and stitched hearts.
The stars became sweet tears,
pouring from the beautiful eyes neglected eternally;
given for the remains of tainted lust reflecting
my ... last breaths unto the Earth.

Strolling the crimson sands,
dancing distantly between the realms of Hell and years ago,
even in light of a crying sun;
she's eyeless, and sits upon the sunset singing with
final strums of my crippled violin.
The winds will carry bitter needles of lonely nights,
away and into the veins just beneath the skin;
You can sever them without breaking into me.

Beneath the sea,
and in thrashing waves of agony
her eyes clutched by the temptation of my heart,
close to my chest, just like her gentle breasts,
back when we slow danced in shards of ice.

And tomorrow tickles my feet,
breathes upon her as she fades away into mist,
and kisses her before my lips can taste her.
Where the smoke of cigarettes will glance into eternity,
I can feel her on my mouth,
I can taste her on my fingers,
and just to have my blood stop flowing onto pages of fairytales,
my last breath will be yours.

Only .... yours.