Dead vines, entwined, root from your heart
and spread like fingers on your skin
No true love knot shall they weave
No true love, no, not for thee
The thorns shall pierce your eyes,
with dead thistle for your sighs
No rose petals for your path
No lily's leaf for your cries
All the birds I bring to you -
not to bless nor sing to you,
but to nest within your mouth
and fill you through and through with doubt
Come and see, and sigh, and cry,
and then breathe with cobweb breath
Red tears fall on the flowers
and their petals shall thus be blessed
Dead vines, entwined, root from your heart
and spread like fingers on your skin
No true love knot shall they weave
No true love, no, not for thee...