Carve Poem by Alexander Downie
Carve
With my body draped as a passive gift,
I give you my flesh in which to scribe.
All my yearns are lost in the cuts and pain,
all my visions blurred in this moment of sanctity.
So cut deep into my skin and draw more blood,
take your time and let it bruise and burn brilliant crimson.
For I am yours locked in a eternity of darkest devilment,
No cries, no agony, no shame, no demand, no lust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/16/2024 1:21:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
