Start with a kiss. It’s the only anesthetic I need. Whisper a sweet lie to soften my flesh, then cut me open. Slice along my arms, saw through my rib cage. Take out my diseased heart and replace it with something still living. Drain out my blood and keep it far from anything living. Mix new blood yourself— three parts honey and one part hope. Spin your words into threads and sew my dying skin together. Wait for me to die. If you love me, and only if, press the honeyed-blood to my lips. Bring me back to you.
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