Sonnet - To Love

She is a vulture gnawing off the fetid
skin from my bones, an oleander blooming
always beautiful, deadly and twisted.
“But burn, and break, and blow the lust that’s looming!”,
I said with my eyelids tightly sewn.
Be it Eros, Isis or Venus,
she is the murderous caretaker of moans
silently wretching the spirit, our loss.
“Throw away your sheath and come near me,
stab my chest with your grim nails, let me writhe”.
A feeling of muted melodies overwhelms me,
blood spews and taints the assassin’s scythe.
Breathlessly waiting for my time to end
Love eats out of my abdomen.