Strung up in a guillotine
Worn down after ten months
Can't even feel the splintered wrists
Let It Be I'm on Fire
Forming a semblance of a girl
Almost one self-destructing year later
That night he came in from the deck
Commented on the moon
That last tangible night,
A grave stone furiously avoided
Can you smell the honeysuckle?
He told me about the honeysuckle.