You know all too well
the ruthless tear of forgiveness.
A heart tattered apart, left
to seep until vacant.
Yet, the gaze, insistent
upon my silver spooned eyes.
How do I calculate the mystery
of that raptured, milky gleam?
It tears through muscle and spirit,
rehaunting visions of unseasoned rage,
and scattered nights of feigned satiation
inhabited by my carnal frame.
Your reach pierces the cloud
with a handful of blood-soaked bread.
Take, eat—
with tear-stained nod, gentle as a newly-wed husband.
Do I dare corrupt this
sacred morsel with my touch?
But, my dear, have you not seen
how I’ve adorned your hands?