needlework is a fitting hobby for a lonely woman

And a honeycomb kiss might fix

the worn heartstrings of my body’s violin;

smear me with rosin so I can

sing and scream and feel again.

The shape of my heart is a bell,

that rings for your honeydew kiss,

so when you hear my knell

you’ll know it’s only you that I miss.

But I comb my hair once again tonight;

Its silver silk shines for the moon that lights

and lusts for you to return home, and

give me back to you…

Come! Set my hair askew!

And feel, at my nape, a tag with your name

forever sewed to my skin

for you. (I win).