The scalpel runs across your flawless skin
Drawing sweet blood as it goes.
If you truly wanted to be one with me,
then repeat this as your dying throes:
“I love you. Don't leave me. I couldn’t bear;
To watch the moon rise or see the sun’s flare
without your benevolent, caring embrace;
So carve from my body;
My flesh is your prize.
So take no sadness in my imminent demise.”