Year of the Swine

You carry, the loyalty of dogs, so you shall be led to the slaughter as swine
It all seemed so real when you whispered, adorned with rose petals and the best
of intentions
Bleeding softly
I wonder if he ever felt as warm
It’s late and my ears can’t listen and there is no one to lift me to my feet
But still dream of you twisting and contorting beneath a garbage bag veil
And this is how it ends
Pretty and black as the soul
Just for one split instant I want to be the lucky one
Not to have the pleasure of tasting the salt of my own tears when we kiss
I’ve been saving my own soul for years and every instant I have been
slaughtered as the swine