Pull my teeth with warm Scottish whiskey, <br />And lay me down in the freshly cut pine of this <br />Nailed together coffin, <br />Just under the shadows of the truncated overpass, <br />Or anywhere, <br />Really, <br />And see if I don’t fit in quite nicely, <br />Me and all my scars, my half handsome beauty: <br />Then it will be like a used car lot on your dime. <br />And I can look up the sinful flow of my muses <br />Taught ribs, <br />The things she stole from me, <br />And the hot pink shorts in which she roller derbies: <br />And that will be that, <br />And you wont even have to put me down, <br />Or say you love me, <br />Because I will have felt for the entire afternoon <br />What it must be like to be vastly asleep, <br />Good and buried, <br />Like a virulent flower whose only desire is to be <br />Awakened to death by your kiss.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-death-by-your-kiss/
