we keep our limbs lonely like a new religion
with our legs hanging off the end of the bed
we bury it into the sheets and whisper
resist the thought of what we did

pestilence and disease had threatened to seize
the sorrow we held for the dead
she flips her hair as we give out
oh, the ways that we were bled

fatigue sets in; we've lead feet to tread
fathomless grey waters with worry in our heads

she softens up and takes the sail
that billows in the wind
and begs to trade her bloated body
for a lighter one instead

give me her pain in the magnet of a compass
that could bring us back to shore
and bludgeon her heart like wind on the mast
until she shatters on the leaking floor

but our bleeding heads make it safe to bet
we won't survive the storm's caress
with her body wrapped up in a sodden dress
she looks glorious at best