It lifted its head and its narrow, evil tongue flicked in and out.
It's leathery foot dangled off the silver edge,
And a lemon wedge fell.
"What is this?" you said.
"Shay, what the fuck is this?"
"It is love given and received.
It is something to do while waiting for Judgement to scorch its way through the atmosphere,
Like a needle into skin."
I sat on the edge of the bed,
Picked up your hand and kissed each finger,
Finding them redolent of me, moreso than my own bones.
I went on:
"It is foul,
It is poison.
It is me paying you back in kind."
But you were already gone,
And I was only talking to myself.