Waiting for the dark,
she sets her love aside,
and feeds on my fervor,
while she tears off my hide;
Tied down to stone,
graves of which are made,
she begins to unleash her rust,
while she stabs me with her blade;

Carved by her teeth.
Carved from the past.
Carved from the grotesque stone,
that once was my deadbeat heart.

Afraid of who she is,
Who she sees in the mirror,
blindfolded, she lays bare;
Twitching like a virgin
on the altar of lust,
as pain fills her bones and breaks her flesh.
Climaxing in moans of agonizing ecstasy
as tears leave her eyes,
she gives in to her urges,
so she shall,
and forever remain,
the sodden part,
of my arid rain.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar