She lays on her side, her breath a smokestack,
A raincloud or a powerplant, and what am I?
I could sing a nursery rhyme, one hand
On my heart and the other on her hip,
But my voice changed and I forgot the words.
I walk through a forest with reddened eyes-
Death is a woman, so kiss me, my dear,
Tell me the things that a man likes to hear.
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