1If the whole world,
Loathed me in unison,
Wanted to burn every inch of me,
With angry torches,
Except for you,
Who would surrender yourself to me,
I would be okay with that.
If I were to be shot,
By twenty – five bullets,
The dawn after the night,
In which I can have you,
In my bed,
To pull at your hair,
While we make love,
I would be okay with that.
If God,
We're to strike me down,
To the fiery pit of hell,
The night I can tear your dress,
Rip that little black dress up,
With my bear hands,
Despite your resistance,
I would be okay with that.
If every possession I owned,
Decided to disappear,
The day I get to bash your head,
Into my headboard,
Until a concussion might occur,
I would be okay with that.
If I were to be gutted.
By my own mother,
Who would then strangle me,
With my own intestines,
In trade,
For ripping you apart,
And leaving your stains on my pillow,
So that I might inhale them,
Night after night,
I would be okay with that.