Fruit of the Poisonous Tree

You were born to be my great unraveling, you were born to make me die a thousand little deaths

Where the stone flourishes with the primordial patience of the mountains cracked and failing with age

My bones are like these chains, hard to break and easily able to withstand the press of your insistent struggle

The mortal flaws I possess are nothing compared to the wrecking passion these fingers have encouraged and this mouth has fed

Compare the history of these hips and the magic of my desire against yielding, dumb innocence and

Tell me, truly, dear prince, who would understand you better -

The glass doll on a pedestal

or the clever peasant girl who fought and clawed her to way to a palace and a place beside you?

Come, taste my lips and try to deny the meeting of hungry souls

No? Then we shall focus on the future, charming man

Let us see how willingly you'll love a pretty corpse

How long will it take for your ardor to fail and flag

The first moments of rigor?

The rosy cheeks turning ashen and fading into the soil?

Will you make the ossuarian remains

a relic?

and pray to her youth and piety?

Or when she has consumed this sweet morsel and fallen -

Will you finally acknowledge the willing Queen turned servant at your feet – be not a prince, but a King?

Will you then turn the most beautiful from your bed?

I wonder

See this deep red apple glow and pulse with poison

These white locks and this ragged voice, my disguise of excellent rags, see the magnificent way I have tortured my face into a hag’s

Who could refuse a harmless, old, kindly, beggarly peddler woman? Certainly not the feeble mind of that pitiful child, not for a moment

Do not pull so against your shackles, my darling

Or you might end as your skeletal companion

An unhappy fate and useless

Unless that be your wish – to join your beloved with a kiss

from this juicy flesh

To join her in the sleeping death?

No. No, I think not.

Why, your wrist is more tender than any peel and more easily bruised

Don't you dare turn away from my hand!

I, soon fairest in all the land

“Breath shall still

Blood congeal”

And all will be right with the world,

You will see

When your eyes and the reflection hold

Just Me.