Bleed, and I will lick the salt
of your sap, the pain of the sudden pruning
flowing rich as honey over my eager tongue.
Recoil, and I will cradle you
firm and tender until my chin and breast
are sticky with your tears and you melt again.
Mine and yours is the sting of betrayal
and the anguish of our bond,
the bittersweet ache of our reunion.
July 15, 2011