I can grasp the misery within your soul,

Understanding why you felt so far from whole.

From a dark abyss, your dwelling place,

Calling it home, yet devoid of grace.

You never knew a true home's embrace,

Except when you tore my form, leaving no trace.

Nestled between my ribs, seeking solace there,

Using my heart as your pillow, with no care.

You severed its beats so sleep could find you,

Wrapped in my flesh, as if it were due.

You slept within the fire that consumed me whole,

Finding rest in the flames that took their toll.

Each organ within me, to you, a fruit to savor,

Your love proportional to the darkness you'd favor.

"If I choose to be with you," you said without dismay,

"My love will match the filth you bear, come what may."

I endured the weight of your actions, your strife,

My ribs your burden, my flesh your knife.

It was my fault for not being strong,

For my body protested, with each movement, all along.

In the depths of your despair, I delve,

Feeling the pulse of why you felt so unwell.

From a shadowed pit, your humble abode,

Calling it home, though bleakness it showed.

You never tasted the sweetness of a true home's kiss,

Except when you tore me apart, finding abyss.

Nestled between my ribs, seeking refuge in me,

Using my heart as your sanctuary, wild and free.

You silenced its rhythm, craving sleep's embrace,

Enveloped in my flesh, a sacred space.

You slumbered amidst the flames, consuming my soul,

Finding solace in the fire's relentless roll.

Each organ within me, a ripe fruit to adore,

Your love matched the darkness, yearning for more.

"If I dare to stay," you whispered in the night,

"My love will match the chaos, burning bright."

I bore the weight of your passion, fierce and bold,

My ribs your canvas, my flesh your hold.

It was my fault for being too weak to withstand,

As your every move echoed, a fiery brand.