Vice

Raping your ghost 

Devouring your rose

At the scent of your blossom 

My ardor arose

I had a cold bath 

It made me as marble 

It's only the clothed

The hidden the partial 

Which creates the effect 

Which makes me erect 

It's only a rose 

With perfume and petals 

The entrance is closed 

The scent is so gentle 

It burns none the less

I want to bury my words 

into the depths of your flesh 

I want to disrobe you with the fingers of my thought 

I want to unrose you 

Until we are lost 

And then I suppose you 

Will get pricked by a thorn 

As the marbeler's chisel 

Battered and worn 

Pushes and pummels

And Cuts till you're torn

You're Venus with arms

There's blood in your ice 

You escaped Rodin's palm

By melting like clouds 

And raising your breast 

To the gaze of my vice.