Thrice eternal, pierced by beautiful blades.

I have yearned and, I’m sure, I will continue to do so,
And yet, 
The compunction withers.
I speak a name, sweet on my tongue,
Yet bitter in the throat,
And it tears my lips asunder.
A great many sacrifices,
As paper curls away from the flame,
And yet the sum returns to naught.
Eat me alive,
Jesus Christ,
And I will devour this slowly,
Savor the marrow,
Bespoke and unprecedented,
I will deteriorate second by second until then.
All hallowed and hollow hearts and hereafters,
Harbor ill intents.
We kiss like we’re starving.