I sever all ten of my fingertips and leave padded prints on your cheekbones, let them drip purple on face. You so generously offer the blade, push it with kisses into my soft. I take it and gurgle, expire and smile. I moan for it deeper my ribs crunching to dust and you willingly give it your hands thick with blood and you stab to the tempo of a song that your mind sings instead of being here for the puncture you press. I thrust toward the dagger and purr humid on earlobes splashing your neck with my sputtering death. Bleed me more sweetly double sided ripping wimper through splitting of silkswollen skin. I am ragged and nothing, shuddering through tides of come. You comb through my organs with razors. And nibbles and phrases whispered and saxophone phrases. I nuzzle your palm and chew from it poison so plump and delicious and spare. I am splayed and willing sticking in viscous spills and hoarse from the slashing of chords and tangled in sheets clotted with ribbons of veins.

And you, while your humming tickles my wounds, are startled how sultry and silent I die.