Vulnerability Of A Rebellious Peasant-King

Like a bruised-up heel, 

You'd tread a merciless path.

Rose-kissed skin, now pale-teal,

Like the rubies on your sash.

"When we die,

How could we know

If it had been too soon?

At the end of our lives;

Is it that we are the brides,

And Death is our groom?"

That's what you'd asked me

As you'd sipped your vermouth,

Not knowing someone'd tasked me

To help you find that truth.

Serum as sweet as antifreeze

To satisfy your sweet-tooth -

To unzip your neck with ease;

Thin, like skin on crimson stone-fruits.

Like a starving child's last meal,

You're a dream of the past.

Your blood has yet to congeal,

Strewn across the dewy grass.

Like a ripened plum,

I leave you in the summer sun;

Your amber eyes glaze like glass,

A feast for beasts and bugs.