Content warning: allusions to sexual violence and possibly murder

Your hands rake the flesh that my wet lips once touched

and caress at the cuts that my blade left behind.

You taste the sweet blood, just like cranberries crushed.

A charlatan’s promise: a tongue edged with rust

has a way with its words that bewitches the mind.

Your hands rake the flesh that my wet lips once touched.

My sensuous touch gave your face such a blush

it resembled a rose, blooming free, yet confined.

A rose made of blood, sweet like cranberries crushed.

I sang you to bed to avoid your mistrust

and I turned Eros blind to our bodies entwined.

Your hands rake the flesh that my wet lips once touched.

I poured you a cup filled with honey and musk

for the flavour of pain comes with pleasure combined.

You drank sweetened blood, just like cranberries crushed.

The hot Tears of Eros bleed freely in lust

since the scars you will find are ones I left behind.

Your hands rake the flesh that my wet lips once touched.

You taste the sweet blood, just like cranberries crushed.