Occasional Posts

Hunger of the Pine

Her nails have grown,
And my heart have they torn,
I begin to bleed.

See, a tear in my heart,
She got me that at the start,
There I bleed.

I try, and can’t refrain,
Lingering on that beautiful mane,
And when I hold her she feigns –
Her love. Her love is pain,
More than I need.

Don’t stay, voices tell me,
But her eyes have drugged me,
And I’d rather bleed.