Rembrandt

You can open my rib cage. Dig your claws around and chew on my heart stem. Open my stomach, wrap my intestines around you, make a cocoon of my guts. Eat my rotten kidneys, my liver and always elevated pancreas, chew it, sink your teeth in. Bathe in my offal, get intoxicated with my blood, drink it, it should still be hot enough for your cold lips. Bury your face in, dig in, I have smooth skin, pale and perfect, tear it all off, wear it as yours, lap up what is left, spare nothing. Gruesome, take my eyes too, small pert nose, dimples, the tiny blemish, the small scar on my left cheek, all yours, take it, every morsel, live deliciously. 

Pain is a curse and you can always hear demons howling if you listen. If you listen harder, you can hear what you really want to hear. Nothing. Observe the unmoved quiet of snow falling on black water, that's bliss, that's Heaven, no devoured husks there, just picture-perfect syrupy water and complete stillness, movement in still-life, like a painting, add shadows, add boats on the water, a soft sun and sunshine on your face, a tarry brush, paint you in a pleasant pine-tree pasture, pastels and a pensive pall bearer in the opaque distance, picturesque, a living portrait, perfect, I love you.