Sepulchre Bloom

Come closer —
let me wear your breath like a veil,
soft as the static between prayers.
You press your name into my throat,
a black-flowered gospel blooming beneath glass skin.

I kneel —
mouth open, hands shaking,
drunk on the ache of you.
Every word I swallow carves you deeper —
sugar rot in the seams of my teeth.

Bury me in your ruin —
wrap me in the rhythm of your slow crucifixion.
Would you let me drown beneath you?
Would you carve a new name into my ribs
and leave me singing?

Hallowed.
Hollowed.
Yours.